All I Have to Do
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Sara, don't walk out that door. GSR
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: So many words have been floating around in my head lately. Just trying to get them down has kept me more than a little busy! Thanks for reading all my ramblings. I hope you're enjoying them!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Prologue_

The rain started just as she reached his townhouse. It was no gentle sprinkle, but a violent downpour that had been building up in the mountains all afternoon. This was curl-up-in-bed-with-a-book-or-a-loved-one weather.

Ironically, it was also appropriate weather in which to end a relationship that had only just begun.

He answered the door like he'd been expecting her. The short walk from the driveway to his front door had left her thoroughly drenched, but he ushered inside without a thought for the puddles she'd leave on his floor.

She stood in the foyer, shivering while he went for a towel. Fresh out of the dryer, the terrycloth was warm and, like his sheets, smelled of laundry soap. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. This might well be her last memory of his scent.

"I didn't think you'd come tonight," he confessed. Taking the towel from her, he started drying her hair. "I hoped, but…'hope is the worst of evils for it prolongs the torments of man'."

"Nietzsche," she whispered. He wasn't even aware of how hard he was making this for her.

"You need to get out of those clothes," he declared with a slanted smile. "I took the liberty of washing your nightgown; I hope I didn't shrink it." He paused. "Although that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing as far as I'm concerned."

"Actually…"

"Why don't you take a hot shower? I'll make us something to eat. Anything you want that doesn't involve eggs. I'm fresh out. What about pasta? Some kind of salad?" He glanced at the kitchen. "I think I still have some of those frozen veggie burgers you made me try awhile back. I don't have any buns, but there's bread and…" He stopped, like something had just struck him. "I almost forgot. Look what I found earlier today."

She watched with a sinking heart as he crossed to the other side of the room and picked up an aged album cover. "Do you remember this?" he asked, holding it up where she could see.

Nodding kept her from crying.

He placed the record onto his turntable with reverence. "Only on vinyl can you capture the true essence of the song." He let the needle drop onto the right spot and held out his hand to her. "Come on."

She was learning too late that he liked to dance.

Unmindful, or perhaps just unaware, of her soaked state, he guided her into his arms. She let him, lacking the willpower to pull away from the solidity of his body.

The music started and he began to move. She closed her eyes as he murmured in her ear, "Our song?"

_When I want you in my arms _

_When I want you and all your charms _

_Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream_

He was just so…happy. That was the worst part of all. For the first time in years, the man she loved was truly and completely happy. Even more amazingly, she was the source of that happiness.

And yet…she was going to be the one to rip it away from him.

"I can't do this."

"What, dance?" His voice was laced with hope, as if it might be as simple as that. "You're doing fine, honey."

Shaking her head, she forced herself to take a step back. "No, I mean this. Us. It's not…it's not going to work."

The Everly Brothers sang for another minute until he finally blinked and walked back to the record player. He took the needle off with a painful scratching sound. She winced.

"Why?"

Swallowing, she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "It just won't."

"Give me reasons," he demanded.

She could see him fighting to remain calm. But he couldn't keep the tremble out of his words or the tautness out of his muscles.

"You know them already," she whispered. "You've known them for years."

"You never believed them then," he argued. "How do they suddenly matter to you?"

Her shoulders lifted. "'Youth is easily deceived because it is quick to hope'." When he said nothing, she added, "Aristotle."

"Why are you doing this?" The expression on his face pleaded for understanding. "Is it something I did? Or didn't do? Just tell me…so I can fix it." His eyes were watery blue. "Please."

The tears that ran down her cheeks were hot against her cold skin. "You made me so happy, too." She backed up another step towards the door. "It's not you. It's not even me. It's just…" Reaching it, she twisted the knob. The rain was still coming down in sheets, soaking the city.

"Just what?" she heard him say. "Sara? Sara, don't walk out that door."

Turning around, she gave him one last look. "I'm doing this for us, Gris. Please remember that when you start hating me."

She was in her car, backing down the driveway by the time he made it outside. She refused to look in the rearview mirror, refused to watch as he became smaller and smaller in the distance.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I know the first chapter had some of ya'll reaching for the tissues. And I thank you for coming back in spite of that! Take care until next time!

* * *

All I Have to Do 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_One week earlier_

"Sara? Honey…are you awake?"

Shifting in the passenger seat of the car, Sara sighed. "You know I hate sleeping in moving vehicles."

Grissom took one hand off the wheel and reached over to lightly squeeze her knee. "I also know that you've been awake for almost thirty-six hours."

"Keeping count, boss?" She covered his hand with hers. "Sorry. I get catty when I'm completely sleep deprived."

He accepted her apology with a nod. "We're not going to get back into town for another hour. At least close your eyes and see what happens."

"I want to stay awake and talk to you."

"Anything specific on your mind?"

Sara shook her head against the head rest. "No. It's just been an insane couple of weeks. And we keep missing each other in the middle of the chaos."

Grissom glanced over at her. "I've missed you, too."

A pleased smiled spread on her face. "Really?"

"Why do you think I assigned us to the other end of the world tonight?"

"Gosh, Dr. Grissom…I just can't imagine." She turned onto her side as much as she could, to see him better. "Why don't you spell it out for me?"

His hand moved up from her knee to her face. "Four hours, round trip, completely alone with a woman I'm rather fond of…" He cleared his throat. "But I don't want to keep you completely sleep deprived." He brushed his knuckles across her cheek one last time. "Try to sleep? For me?"

Sara tried to scowl, but ended up yawning. Which made her even more annoyed. "It's too quiet to sleep," she continued to protest.

Grissom's response was to turn the radio on. Hard rock blasted out.

_You're beside me on the seat _

_Got your hand between my knees _

_And you control how fast we go _

_By just how hard you wanna squeeze_

"Next time, we check to see if Greg was the last CSI to use the car before we take it out," he grumbled as Sara bit back a tired chuckle.

With some minor shuffling, they landed on another station.

_Pump it! Just pump it! And sigh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

Grissom frowned and flipped again.

_I've gotta make somebody love me _

_And now I know, now I know, now I know, I know that it's you _

_You're lucky, lucky, you're so lucky_

"The day has come, and the music has died."

"Isn't it time that they installed satellite radio in these things?" Sara said, lightly. "I think they have a station called 'music for people who don't like anything produced after 1980'."

He tried one more time.

_When I feel blue in the night _

_And I need you to hold me tight _

_Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream_

"I like that," she mumbled, sleepily. "Oldie, but goodie."

Grissom sighed. "I refuse to think about how old I was when this song came out."

"Okay," she said, her eyelids drooping. "And I won't tell you that I wasn't born when it did." She kept one eye open long enough to see him shoot her a slightly bemused look. "Had to say it, baby."

"Go to sleep," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I'll wake you when we get there."

A few moments passed. He was just about convinced that she was finally out when she murmured, "I'm rather fond of you, too."

Grissom couldn't keep the smile off his face as he drove them back to Vegas. Instead of taking Sara to her apartment after they dropped the evidence from their case off at the lab, he took her back to his place, and made sure she got several more hours of rest.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, they had a suspect cornered in interrogation. Unfortunately, JJ Walker had brought his lawyer along for the ride. 

"Mr. Grissom, let me get this straight. You had my client hauled in here because you found a single fingerprint of his in a public bathroom?" The lawyer, Randall Malcolm, looked back and forth between the two CSI's. "I always appreciate you guys making my job easy for me."

Grissom opened the file and took out a single picture. "We found your client's print in a recently cleaned public bathroom, on a sink basin two feet away from the body of a woman who was raped and beaten to death." He slid the photo across the table. "This woman. Katie Green."

Malcolm's eyes deliberately stayed straight on Grissom. "Is that name supposed to mean something?"

"It should to your client," Sara coldly informed him. "She had a restraining order against him."

JJ swung a leering gaze in her direction. "Yeah, I knew her. So?"

"So…with the evidence that we have so far, it'll be a piece of cake for us to get a warrant for your DNA. If we match it to what we found inside Katie Green…" She folded her arms. "Go ahead. Tell your client what they do to guys like him in jail."

Learning into his client, the lawyer quietly advised, "Say nothing, JJ."

But his advice went ignored. "Look, Katie was a whining little cock-tease. Hot for me one minute, fucking frigid the next. I don't put up with that shit from your kind," he snarled, pointing at Sara.

"My kind?" she baited him.

"Stuck-up cunts," he hissed back.

Malcolm ran a hand down his mouth. "JJ, I strongly advise that you shut the hell up now."

"You're just like her, I bet." He looked at Grissom. "She lead you around by your prick?"

Only a very careful observer would have noticed the way Grissom's jaw tightened. "You should listen to your attorney, Mr. Walker."

"Don't let her, man. You can't let 'em get you by the sack. They love that." JJ's eyes narrowed at Sara. "Don't you? Answer me, bitch!"

The officer guarding the door stepped forward, but Sara held up her hand to keep him at bay. She calmly tucked the photo of Katie Green's bloody body back into the file folder. "We should have that warrant in a few hours, Mr. Malcolm. In the meantime, we'll be keeping your client here for…"

JJ shot to his feet, stretched across the table and backhanded Sara hard enough to knock her out of her chair.

The small room was plunged into a fury of chaos. As the officer restrained the struggling suspect, Brass threw the door open and entered to make the arrest, and the lawyer buried his face in his hands, Grissom pushed his own chair out of the way to get to the woman on her knees on the floor.

"Sara!" In a quieter voice, he added, "Honey…"

The blow had been so hard that it hadn't even really been painful. Just an explosion of numbness in her face. Her senses had been jarred and for a moment, her mind went blank. His voice brought her back to reality.

As she turned her head to look at him, Sara wasn't aware of the blood that trickled from the broken corner of her lip. "Gris," she whispered. "We own his ass now."

He barely held himself back from gathering her up in his arms right there. He adored so many things about this woman. Her inability to think about herself, instead of the larger picture, was only admirable when she wasn't bleeding right in front of him.

As it was, all he could do was put his hands on her shoulders and squeeze gently, hoping she understood that he wanted to do so much more. "We're calling for a paramedic to check you out," he informed her. "Don't even try arguing with me on this one. I'm pulling rank."

The blissful numbness was slipping away, and the pain that was starting to settle into her cheek kept her from doing anything more than nodding.

Grissom stood up and helped Sara to her feet. He tried to keep a professional distance between them, but it was hard to maintain that detached stance when she put her hand to her face and closed her eyes.

Brass was in the middle of reading JJ Walker his rights. "Get him out of here," he finished up. "Before I let Sara strike back." The officer dragged the man out of the room, kicking and screaming. "You okay?" Brass asked Sara.

"It's only a flesh wound," she joked. Her shaky voice betrayed her.

Grissom fixed a hard stare on JJ's lawyer. "I think your job just got a little less easy, Mr. Malcolm."

As he spoke, he wasn't even aware that his arm circled Sara's shoulders, protectively.

The lawyer grinned. "I love a challenge, Mr. Grissom."

* * *

"I'm not a violent man…" Grissom spat into the sink. "…but I wanted to wrap my hands around his damn throat." 

At the other end of the bathroom counter, Sara examined her face in the mirror. The only visible mark so far was a pronounced swelling around her split lip. But there would probably be bruises in the morning. She couldn't wait to document them.

He slammed his toothbrush back into its holder. "I would have, too, if his vulture of a lawyer hadn't been sitting right there."

Glancing away from her reflection, Sara gave him a loving look. "My hero."

"Don't laugh, Sara," Grissom glowered. "I'm serious."

"I'm not laughing. I'm actually enjoying this more…primal side of your nature." She stepped closer to him, her feet sinking into the plush softness of his bathroom rug. "After all, here I am. Letting you baby me."

Grissom's hard expression thawed. It said a lot about Sara's past relationships that she considered "babying" to be someone making dinner for her and insisting that she keep an icepack on her wound.

"I just hate it when you're in pain, honey. I can't stand it. Especially when I can't do anything about it."

She kissed him softly, her swollen lip barely brushing across his. "You can do something about it."

"What's that?" he asked, touching her cheek with delicate fingers.

As they kissed, Sara pushed him into the bedroom. "Make me forget."

And for a few hours, they both did.

* * *

To Be Continued 

A/N: Bonus points if you can name the three songs Grissom bypassed on the radio. Artists, too!;)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful reviews so far. Most everyone did really good 'naming those tunes' in the last chapter. They were, of course, _Animals _by Nickelback, _Pump It_ by the Black Eyed Peas and _Do You Want To_ by Franz Ferdinand, all randomly chosen from my iPod. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much:)

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

It was already shaping up to be a bad day in Ecklie's world. A phone call from the DA was just the cherry on top of a shit sundae.

"Ecklie," he reluctantly answered the call, having been informed by Judy just who was on the line, waiting for him.

"Conrad." The district attorney was never a happy man, but that morning his voice was even graver than usual. "We have a problem."

As he listened, that sundae just kept getting bigger and bigger.

"Is it true?" the DA eventually asked. "They're your people. I need to know if there's any reality to this. Because if there is…hell, I don't need to spell it out for you."

Ecklie rubbed his bald spot. "No. You don't." He blew out a breath. "I'll look into it and get back to you."

"Are you going to go straight to him?"

He chuckled shortly. "He won't be receptive to anything coming from me." Another pause followed. "It'll have to be her."

"I've seen her file. You and she aren't exactly on good terms, either." He said nothing and eventually, the DA gave in, "Fine. Let me know. Sooner is better." The DA sighed. "This could turn into an ugly bitch of a mess, Conrad."

Ecklie ended the conversation with a few curses of his own.

* * *

"Sara, it's not any more purple than it was twenty minutes ago." Catherine shook her head at her co-worker as she emerged from the bathroom stall and found her still examining her face. "You just don't bruise easily."

The only answer she got was a scowl.

"It's scary. Isn't it?" Turning on the faucet, Catherine continued, "When they manage to get to you. I remember." She pumped soap into her hand. "But you've got him in custody. You don't need a horribly ugly bruise to keep him there."

For a moment, Sara faltered. "It's not the first time I've been assaulted." She looked back at her lip; the swelling had gone down significantly overnight. "But he's the first to leave a mark."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but it might never go away." After drying her hands, Catherine patted Sara's shoulder awkwardly. "Just don't dwell on it. You'll drive yourself crazy."

There were a lot of comforting things she could have said. That wasn't one of them.

* * *

Sara left the bathroom five minutes later and rejoined Grissom in the layout room where they were going over evidence in another of their active cases. She felt his eyes watching her every movement for a long time before she called him on it.

"What?" she patiently asked without looking up.

"You were gone for quite awhile," he said. "Are you all right?"

She highlighted a line on the phone records in front of her. "Gris, what was the one thing I asked you not to do after what happened yesterday?"

"Treat you like glass. But, Sara…"

"No buts," she cut him off, glancing up to meet his gaze. "You promised. Business as usual."

Grissom inclined his head after a few seconds. "You're right. I withdraw the question."

They maintained eye contact for another moment, but quickly broke it when Greg poked his head into the room.

"Sara! I just heard what that bastard did to you! Are you okay? Do you need anything? Aspirin? Icepack? Coffee?"

Setting down her pen, Sara turned to Grissom. "What was the one thing I **did** ask you to do?"

He cleared his throat. "Tell the guys not to treat you like glass either. That one I honestly forgot."

Greg came up to her and studied her face. "Thank god," he sighed. "You're still pretty."

"Okay, Greg, we're working here." Grissom pointed to the door. "Go do the same."

He left, but not without giving Sara the international 'call me' hand motion. She tried not to smile, but it was impossible. Especially when Grissom was still frowning, territorially.

"He needs to find his own woman," was all he said before returning to the case in front of them.

Underneath the table, Sara's hand sought out his.

* * *

Hours later, Grissom stripped off his lab coat and threw it into the lab laundry pile. Leaning up against the bank of lockers, Sara shook a finger at him. "If you seem too eager to get out of here, people will start to suspect things."

"What do you say to Chinese and _The English Patient_? Let's try to get all the way through it this time, though. I'd actually like to see what happens in the end." His eyes twinkled.

"I still have a few hours of work left. Besides, don't you have court in the morning?" The locker room was empty, but Sara still looked over her shoulder as she continued, "If I go home with you, I promise you won't be well-rested on the stand tomorrow."

He reluctantly agreed with a short nod. "All right." Although they could be interrupted at any second, Grissom couldn't resist leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss. "I won't ask you not to work too late. But you have to promise that you won't forget to eat something."

"Done." Sara cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his beard. "Night."

Grissom covered her hand with his and brought it over to his lips. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She returned to work with a fresh bounce in her step. She even found herself humming as she compared carpet fibers. That earned her a few strange looks from co-workers who came through the room, but she barely noticed. Her good mood was impervious to scrutiny.

"Sidle."

Well…almost impervious.

She looked up from her microscope and saw Ecklie moving towards her. Her first instinct was to formulate some sort of excuse that would get her out of there. But her new policy regarding the man who had suspended her a year ago was to use honey instead of vinegar when dealing with him.

"What can I do for you, Ecklie?" she asked as sweetly as possible.

Normally there would be a super-slick smile on his face, but his expression was grim. Not angry, just…foreboding. She didn't like it.

"Whenever you get done in here, we need to talk." He paused for a moment. "In private."

She fought back a wave of suspicion, mixed in with a healthy dose of worry. "What's going on?"

"Come by my office. I'll be waiting." Ecklie hesitated another second. "It's important."

Sara pulled off her gloves. "I hate suspense." She stood up and gestured to the door. "After you."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thank you so much to everyone's who reading and/or reviewing.

* * *

All I Have to Do 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Sara arrived home earlier than she'd planned, and her first thought was of him. How pleased would he be that she hadn't stayed too long at the lab? But it was dangerous to think about him too much. She was hanging by a thread as it was. 

Her body resisted falling back into her old routine of shedding her jacket, checking her answering machine, looking in the fridge for something to eat, and crashing on her couch. These days, she had new habits. Showering, changing clothes, and heading to his house for breakfast in bed. Breakfast being optional.

She liked her new schedule. She wanted to drop everything and go to him, curl up in his arms and forget everything that had happened since he'd left her in the locker room.

Instead, she shed her jacket. Checked her answering machine. Looked in the fridge. And crashed onto the couch.

She didn't want to close her eyes because she knew that the moment she did, she'd be right back in Ecklie's office, reliving all those things she wanted to forget.

Sara fought the Sandman bravely, but in the end, the bastard won.

* * *

As soon as the door to his office was completely shut, Sara turned on him. "What did I do this time?" 

Ecklie eased into his chair and leaned back. "Calm down, Sidle. This issue's bigger than just you." He gestured to the other two chairs. "Have a seat. We might be here awhile."

"Are you on another mission to bring down Grissom? Because you might have caught me off guard last time, but now…"

"Sit down," he ordered. "And listen." Sara slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs. He watched her closely before continuing, "I heard about what happened yesterday. Did you fill out all the necessary accident paperwork?"

"I'm fine, Ecklie, thanks for asking."

He went on, undaunted. "Funny how I heard about it. I got a call earlier from the DA, who had just gotten a call from Randall Malcolm. You might remember him. He's the attorney…"

"Of the guy who did this to me," she finished, pointing at her lip.

Ecklie inclined his head. "Seems that at his client's arraignment last night, he filed a motion to dismiss the charges."

"Of course he did. I'd expect no less."

"And he might win."

Sara blinked. "Excuse me? On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that the two CSI's who interrogated his client are romantically involved, and I quote, 'used their intimate knowledge of each other to tag-team his client into incriminating himself and acting in an inappropriate manner that he otherwise never would have'. End quote."

"That's bullshit!" she exploded.

"Which part?" She glared at him, but he just calmly spread his hands. "It's a valid question."

"It'll never work," Sara said after a moment. "There were witnesses to what happened in the interrogation room. And because of that, we were able to get his DNA. Wendy matched it to the sample from Katie Green an hour ago. He's going down for this. And he knows it. He's desperate, so he's got his lawyer grabbing at straws."

"That's the other thing. The lawyer's also contesting the fact that the DNA was taken at all." When she stared at him, he added, "His claim is that if you and Grissom hadn't baited his client into attacking you, his DNA never would have been able to be compelled."

Sara leaned forward, her voice rising. "We have his print next to the dead body of a woman he was stalking! We would have gotten his DNA no matter what he did to me."

Ecklie nodded. "I know this, Sidle. But it's not up to me, or any of us. Once it's in a judge's hands…who knows? He could very well walk. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless there's no basis to the motion," he hedged.

Sara snorted delicately. "Just ask what you really want to ask, Ecklie."

"Fine. Are you and Supervisor Grissom in a romantic relationship?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "Yes. Now ask me if we've ever, **ever** let it interfere with our professional relationship."

"I don't have to," he sighed. "No more than I have to tell you how seriously this could affect not just this case, but every case you and Gil have ever worked on. If you didn't already know that, you wouldn't be keeping your involvement a secret, would you?"

They considered each other for a long time. Finally, Sara asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Run that by me again?"

He smiled without mirth. "You're a good CSI. Certain personality flaws notwithstanding. No one in this lab could question your dedication to law enforcement. If it comes down to a choice…I don't think I'll be the one to make it."

"If it comes down to that," she echoed. Ecklie nodded again.

Sara could feel her control slipping away. The unfairness of it all was too much to handle. She looked up at the ceiling, forcing back an onslaught of outraged tears. There was no way in hell Ecklie was going to see her cry. Even if her happiness was cracking right in front of him.

"Will you do something for me?" she asked. "Don't go to him with this. I realize that he's the supervisor, and the only reason you came to me first was because you know that as soon as you start talking, he starts reciting the periodic table in his head, but…" Sara dragged her lower lip between her teeth. "I don't want you to put this on him. If that bastard walks…I can't let him take the responsibility for it. Because he will. And it'll eat away at him."

Ecklie took his time with his answer. "All right. Gil won't hear about any of this. When I find out more, I'll let you know."

Sara lowered her chin all the way to her chest and closed her eyes for a brief second. "Thanks."

When she stood to go, he stopped her. "Sidle…believe it or not, I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"But you can't risk the lab. I know." Sara walked to the door. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"And if it does?"

She grasped the doorknob with a trembling hand. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

The ringing phone startled her out of a fitful sleep. She lifted her head from couch cushion too quickly; the room spun a bit as she reached for her cell. She didn't need to look at the screen. There was only one number that had that particular ring tone. 

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I've tried everything," Grissom said, his voice tinny over the line. "I watched infomercials."

Sara sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "No good?"

"I almost became the proud owner of a Magic Bullet."

She smiled. "What can I do?"

"Come over," he answered without hesitation. "I know why I can't sleep, honey. You're not next to me."

Her chin wobbled and it took her a second to be able to speak without putting the same wobble in her voice. "I really want to," she whispered. "But there's still…work left."

Grissom sighed in resignation. "What if your supervisor told you to drop everything?"

"My supervisor knows better." She swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Have you tried warm milk?"

"No."

"Good. It's disgusting."

He laughed, a pure sound that temporarily patched all the cracks in her heart. "Does my vegetarian have objections to me counting sheep?" he teased.

"We do what we have to do," Sara murmured. Shaking her head, she added, "Go to sleep."

"Sara." She could almost feel his smile through the phone. "You know I called just to hear your voice, right?" He let her absorb this for a second. "Goodnight, honey."

She closed up the phone and held it to her lips for a long time. Her heart and her brain were at war. It was a new battle on an old subject.

For all of her supposed intelligence, her instincts always seemed to win out.

Speed limits were broken on her way to his townhouse; she let herself in with the spare key he'd given her only weeks into their official relationship. All of his lights were out, but she knew the way to his bedroom blindfolded.

The right side of the bed was empty, like he was expecting her. Sara stepped out of her shoes and lay down next to him on top of the paisley covers.

"Baby?" she whispered, testing to see if he was just dozing. There was no reply. Sometime during the time it had taken her to drive to his place, he'd fallen asleep.

She shifted closer to him, her chest touching his back. Ever so gently, she slipped her arm under his, hugging his waist.

It was only there, tucked up against the man she loved, the man who she would do anything to protect, that she let herself cry.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews thus far. I'm so glad people are enjoying this story despite what's coming...

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

She woke the next morning to warm lips touching hers. Opening her eyes slowly, she memorized each second as his face came into focus. He stared down at her with a look of wonder.

"Where did you come from?" Grissom spoke softly, as if his question went deeper than just curiousity as to how she came to be in his bed. "I remember going to sleep alone." He cupped her cheek in his hand and ran his thumb over her lips. "But I woke up to your freezing feet."

Sara tucked the memory of his teasing smile away in her mind before turning her head and replying, "I couldn't sleep either. And it's not my fault that you keep it one degree higher than Antartica in here."

"I'm just glad you're here." He kissed the side of her neck with sigh of resignation. "I don't suppose the judge would grant a continuance in a double murder trial on the grounds that the forensics expert couldn't drag himself away from his girlfriend, would he?"

Hearing him call her that put a girlish blush on her cheeks. "Probably not."

Grissom managed to quickly kiss her mouth, without a care for either of their morning breaths. He climbed out of bed, treating her to one of her favorite sights, his bare back and shoulders, as he headed into the bathroom.

She closed her eyes when she heard him turn on the shower. He liked to brush his teeth while the water warmed to the perfect temperature. He'd found out what kind of shampoo and conditioner she used, and bought bottles of each for the nights she stayed over. He sometimes sang in the shower. Gershwin. Gilbert and Sullivan. He could hold a tune, but just barely.

Her mind was a filing system, storing away random bits of information for what could be a very lonely future.

Sara got up and walked to the bathroom, removing her clothes as she went. Grisson was already under the water, sudsing up the stone-colored curls she loved. As not to give him a heart attack, she delicately cleared her throat. "Can I join you?"

The glass door was pushed aside for her after only a second of hesitation. This would be a first for them.

She stepped into the steamy warmth. His eyes were closed against the stinging foam, but he smiled in her general direction. Without a word, Sara reached for the soap and lathered up a washcloth. She paid attention to every inch of his lightly golden skin, washing each part of him with reverence. His eyes remained closed long after the water spray had rinsed his hair clean.

Grissom caught her before she reached below his waist. "Don't start something we don't have time to finish."

Freeing her wrist, she deliberately wrapped her hand around his hardness. "What time do you have to be in court?" She watched his face closely; half of her pleasure came from his.

"Court?"

They came together quickly, slick with soap and water and need. Which wasn't to say it went smoothly. There were some awkward fumblings as they adjusted to new surroundings, and discovered the best position with the least likeliness of killing one or both of them. But once they worked out the kinks, it was good. Too good. Sara bit her lip to keep from crying out. Or just crying.

He rested his cheek on her back. "God, I love you," he breathed. His body still shuddered slightly.

"I know," she whispered. Craning her neck, she sought out his lips in a hungry, reaffirming kiss.

Maybe everything would be all right. Perhaps she was slipping back into her old defeatist habits prematurely. This could all blow over, and leave her and Grissom still standing. Maybe even standing right here, joined and whole.

A girl could dream.

* * *

"Sara...you got something on your mind."

Blinking, she glanced at her partner for the night. Nick was only a few feet away, dusting for prints while she crouched down and picked glass off the carpet. Their home invasion was a nice, dull case, perfect for a night when her mind was otherwise occupied.

"No, I'm fine," she quickly replied.

"That was going to be a question until you started staring at that one piece of glass." Nick laughed as she realized that she had, indeed, been holding the same shard of glass between her tweezers for god only knew how long.

"It's a critical piece," she scowled, stuffing it into an envelope.

He struggled to contain his mirth. "Sure. Critical."

"Don't knock me just because I'm in the zone."

"Oh, you're in a zone, alright. The Twilight Zone." Nick paused. "Are you seein' someone?"

She lost her footing and landed on her butt.

"That answers that. Graceful, by the way." She glared at him, and he held up his hands. "Consider the question withdrawn."

A moment passed. "Hypothetically..." Sara picked herself up, dusted off her backside, and started changing her gloves. "Let's say you were seeing someone...you worked with."

Nick's eyebrows lifted. To uphold the pretense that they were having a hypothetical conversation, he started working again. "Go on."

There was a comfortable veil of anonymity that came with using hypotheticals. Although she rightfully suspected that Nick wasn't fooled, Sara hid behind her 'if's' and 'someone's' as she went on. "And let's say...that person was in a position of authority. So being with that person could have serious consequences."

His brush stopped for a second. "How serious?"

It took her a second to reply. "Bad guys could go free."

"That's serious." Nick cleared his throat. "What's the question here, Sara?"

Sara dropped another glass shard into an evidence bag. "What would you do?"

"Do I love this person?"

"Yeah. A lot." She used her shoulder to rub her cheek. "But you also love your job."

"And it's for sure that being with this person would...you know...have that result? Because I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions and make decisions and hurt that person if I didn't have to."

This time, she landed on her butt on purpose. "It's not looking good."

Nick put his brush down, peeled off his gloves and sat down next to her on the floor. "What if I transferred to a different shift than the one this person leads?"

"You'd still have all the past cases that could be questioned. And this person...this person might have a speciality that's utilized by all shifts. Being on another team wouldn't necessarily guarantee that you'd never have to work with them again."

"Wow," he sighed. "It really sucks to be me."

Sara let out a short laugh. "Right now, yeah, it does."

He slung his arm around her shoulder. "I think...I'd try to keep my chin up for as long as possible. I'm guessing that I went through a lot to be with this person. And since everyone knows I'm pretty damn stubborn, I think I'd probably dig my heels in and find a way."

"What if you couldn't find a way?"

"There's always a way, Sara," he said quietly. "It might not be easy or ideal, but if something...or someone...is worth having, you do what you gotta do." He jostled her until she nodded. "Okay. Glad you helped me settle that one. Back to work?"

After several minutes of processing in silence, Nick stopped and looked at her. "So, what did it take for this person to finally get their head together and be with me?"

She met his eyes. "Nearly losing someone you both care about to a madman."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Well. I guess...there really is a silver lining to everything."

* * *

She bought Mexican from their favorite restaurant and brought it to his place for a late lunch/early dinner. He wasn't back from court yet, so after sticking the food in the oven to keep it warm, Sara set the table with his best dishes and dug around in drawers until she came up with two candles. She was just lighting them when she heard his key in the door. Blowing out the match, she ran to greet him.

"Hi, baby!" she said, a bit breathless, but doing her best to be positive. "How did it go?"

Grissom tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and shrugged out of his suit jacket. "They're going to accquit." His voice was low and tight. "You can just tell. Six hours on the stand going over a mountain of evidence. But since there's no DNA...the woman will walk." He moved past her, into the living room.

"I know it's tough," she sympathized, following him. "Juries think DNA is the only real evidence and that without it, the case isn't strong. I blame TV." When he plopped down onto the couch, she kneeled down next to it. "I got dinner from Peso's and there's a chimichanga with your name on it."

"Maybe later." He crooked a finger at her. "Come here."

Sara crawled up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder until he moved his arm around her, pulling her closer. They were quiet for a long time.

"She deserves to spend the rest of her life in jail," Grissom said, breaking the silence. "It's my job to put her there...and I don't know if I can."

Her fingers worked to loosen his tie for him. "I know how much that hurts you."

"It's not just me, Sara. It hurts the victim's families, the victim's memory...the whole system."

She slipped her hand into his collar. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing you can control, honey." He kissed her forehead.

Sara swallowed. "Right." She lifted her head. "If we wait to eat much longer, your chimichanga will be a log of a fried fat."

"Isn't that kind of what it is already?"

"All right. A cold log of fried fat." She swatted at him. "Smart ass."

"Cute ass," Grissom said as she stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Sara treated him to an extra wiggle. It lifted her spirits immeasurably.

Her good mood lasted all the way through their meal. Grissom took over dish duty and she wandered back into the living room to put on some music. Although he'd given in and bought a CD player, probably under protest, his true music collection was on vinyl. She was sifting through the Beatles when her cell phone rang.

As soon as she managed to dig it out from the depths of her bag, Sara glanced at the screen. _Unknown._

She answered with a fair amount of trepidation. "Sidle."

The caller spoke without identifying himself. Not that he needed to. "I told you I'd let you know. I'm letting you know. Next shift, come straight to my office."

A weight settled on Sara's chest, making it difficult to breathe. "What hap...?"

Ecklie cut her off. "We'll talk then. Don't be late."

Grissom entered the living room, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Who was it?" he casually asked.

"Wrong number," Sara lied. With the press of a few buttons, she cleared her call history. "Can I stay here again?"

"You know you don't have to even ask about that."

She nodded and tried to smile. "I'm gonna run home for a...um...a change of...clothes."

"Sure. But, Sara, if you're looking for a good time tonight, remember...I was on the stand for six hours."

"It's okay." Sara walked up to him and gave him a slow kiss. "I just want to be with you. You have no idea how much..." Her voice gave out on her suddenly.

Grissom frowned. "Honey? What's wrong?"

She put a finger to his lips, taking that moment to collect herself. "I can stop for ice cream on my way back. Rum raisin?"

"Butter pecan." He couldn't shake off his frown that easily. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah." Sara backed up. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Slipping his hands into his pockets, all Grissom could do was watch her grab her keys and escape out the front door.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks, everyone! Your support is always fantastically appreciated!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Ecklie didn't waste any time on formalities. As soon as Sara was seated in his office the next evening, he started talking.

"What do you remember about Kaye Shelton?"

The name was like an icicle shard straight through her heart, dredging up terrible memories of sleepless nights and a decomposing pig that had changed her life. "Um...found in the mountains about five, almost six years ago. She was shot in the head by her abusive spouse."

He sat on the edge of his desk, but his posture was too rigid for the pose. He looked stiff and awkward. "You and Grissom worked that case. Your work put Scott Shelton behind bars."

"On death row," Sara added with no small amount of satisfaction. "Still better than he deserved if you ask..." She stopped. "Why are you asking?"

"The thing I hate about this town...sometimes it seems just as small as Grover's Corners," Ecklie sighed. "Randall Mitchell...JJ Walker's attorney...it just so happens that he's in the same law firm as Scott Shelton's attorney." Sara could feel him watching her as she absorbed this. "You probably haven't been keeping up with this case since you apparently have a life now, but Scott Shelton, like so many on death row, is exercising his lawful right to appeal the hell out of his conviction. To date, he's gotten as far as the Nevada Criminal Court of Appeals."

She ran her tongue over her dry lip. "What are his odds of getting a new trial?"

"Looking up," Ecklie said. "Since his lawyer has just recently discovered that the two leading CSI's on his client's case could be lovers."

Her mind spun, but she managed to hold on to a single thought. "Back then...Grissom and I weren't..."

"It's not just the Kaye Shelton case, Sidle." He reached around for a file on his desk. Opening it, he read, "Stu Evans, convicted of murdering his wife five years ago. His lawyer has already filed a new appeal."

Sara searched for the name until she came up with it. "Grissom found that man's wife in his water filtration tank. He killed her because she nagged him! The evidence was never in question!"

"He saw you caressing Gil's face. Excuse me...brushing away chalk." Her eyes widened, and Ecklie nodded. "Yes, I read the transcripts of that movie star's prelim. How do you think that lawyer found out? Evans had nothing to lose by telling anyone who would listen that he caught Las Vegas's finest in a moment of indiscretion."

"It was innocent," she protested. But she couldn't even make the words sound convincing to herself.

"There's more, Sara. The defense lawyers in this town are a tight, incestous bunch. And they've found new meat to chew on." Ecklie rubbed his forehead wearily. "Of course...not all of them are going to win. The science is solid. Gil's reputation preceeds him. You...well...you're building one. Slowly. Most judges will see through the crap. But some won't. It's those ones that we're worried about."

"We?"

"The DA. The sheriff." He paused. "We can't keep a lid on this forever. Sooner or later...other involved parties are going to find out."

She looked away, blinking back stinging emotion. "He worked so hard on those cases. Every conviction, every sentencing...he was there. Not to gloat. Just to...reaffirm. He'd come back refreshed. Ready to take on the next case that came his way." Sara stopped, suddenly realizing who she was talking to. "We haven't done anything wrong, Ecklie. But even if we had...how can these victims and their families be punished because of us?"

"Because we have to be above reproach. We're always on trial; you know that. Gil's at least taught you that much. We can't afford even the appearance of impropriety." He folded his arms. "And a supervisor sleeping with a subordinate...screams of intimate undertandings and subtle arrangements of evidence."

"Subtle arrangements? Are you kidding?" Sara clasped her hands together in front of her face. "This isn't happening..."

"It is. And I need to know what you intend to do about it." When she said nothing, he leaned forward a bit. "Sidle?"

"Will it matter? If I...if I break..." Her voice gave out and she had to take a second. "Will the problem go away?"

Ecklie sat back again. "I don't know. But it'll sure make it a hell of a lot easier to convince a judge to rule our way if we can honestly say there's no fraternization taking place. Then, as well as now."

Sara nodded. "Another favor?" she asked when she could. He lowered his chin in acknowledgement. "I'm going to ask for a few days off. Give them to me."

"Yeah. I'll file the paperwork."

After a moment, she stood up. "I just want you to know...we never imagined any of this."

"There's a danger in getting attached to people," he said, as sagely as possible. "I warned him about this once upon a time, but obviously he wasn't paying attention."

"I told you." Sara pulled the door open. "The periodic table. He's smarter than the rest of us."

* * *

The door to his office was open; he was already standing at his desk, blissfully unaware of anything but the paperwork he was always putting off. Sara stood at the threshold for a full minute and watched him. He was frowning down at his files, like they were unruly children. She half expected him to start scolding them for not producing the answers he wanted fast enough. With a sigh, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Sara stepped inside, shut the door behind her, locked it and pulled the blinds.

Grissom looked up at the sound of his door closing. Before he could say or do anything, she was at his side, yanking a file out of his hand and molding her body against his. She kissed him hard and hot, tangling her fingers in his short curls.

"Sara," he managed to get out around her lips. He grasped her shoulders and pried her a few inches away. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you." She demonstrated again, pleased when his arms instinctively circled her body. "The door's locked...the others aren't due for another half an hour..."

Grissom closed his eyes as her lips located the spot just under his ear that she knew drove him crazy. "Honey...we can't. Not here. We agreed..." He groaned as her tongue darted out to taste him. "...not at work."

She drew back. "Then let's get out of here."

"What?"

"Right now. Let's take some of that time off that they owe us...and just go somewhere. Anywhere. It doesn't matter." Her words were rapid and breathless. "They can get by without us for a few days and..."

"Sara, you know we can't just drop everything," Grissom said, quietly. "Even if we could, we shouldn't draw any attention to ourselves."

Her eyes stung. "I don't care. I just want..." Her fingers trembled as she played with the top button of his shirt. "I just want to be with you."

"You are with me," he assured her. "And we will figure out how to take some time off without creating a huge scandal, I promise. We're long overdue for a vacation." Grissom kissed her briefly and finally. "But not this very minute, okay?"

He didn't wait for her answer before he walked to the door, unlocked it and opened the blinds. And with his back turned, he never saw the tears she wiped away.

"Sara," he said when he turned around. "Do you need a break? Should I not send you out tonight? I would never ask except...well, honey...there's something bothering you that you don't seem quite ready to tell me about, yet. I'm not pressing you into talking...but I'm also not willing to put you in a situation that might stress you even more."

"Are you speaking as my boyfriend or my boss?"

"I'm speaking as someone who loves you."

Sara touched her lips. "I'll be all right."

On his way back to his desk, Grissom stopped long enough to take her hand and gently squeeze it. She held on as long as she could, until he moved too far away and their hands parted. Back at his desk, he looked down at his files again. Resigned, Sara moved towards the door.

"By the way," he said, stopping her. "You look beautiful tonight." Glancing up, he gave her a private smile. "See you at assignments."

* * *

She wasn't surprised when he put himself with her on a 419. Maybe he was keeping an eye on her, and maybe, under different circumstances, she would have resented it. But not that night. With everything falling apart around them, and him completely unaware of any of it, she was happy just to be at his side.

At dawn, they stopped at her apartment to pick up another change of clothes on their way back to his place, but ended up crashing on her bed that was almost too small for them both. Sara woke hours later, wrapped up in Grissom.

When he woke, warm with sunlight from her bedroom window, and aroused by the scent of her hair, they made love. With each thrust, each breath, each pleasure, Sara held onto him and prayed that it wouldn't be the last time.

But the next day, the rains came.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I am so, so, so grateful to everyone who's been reading and reviewing and hanging on through the angst;) Y'all rock!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

The first available flight out of McCarran was non-stop to Tampa International. Sara reserved a ticket, left a message with Judy for Ecklie reminding him of his promised favor, and packed a bag. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do in Florida, but it was far away from Nevada. Beyond that, she didn't care.

Ecklie called her back while she was waiting in the airport. "Tell the DA...he can now honestly say to a judge that there's no relationship," Sara told him, surprised by the hoarse quality of her voice.

"What should I tell him?" There was no need to ask to whom he referred.

"Tell him I'm on vacation."

She slept through the flight and woke up in the Sunshine State. It was raining. She tried not to take it as a sign.

The hotel she'd chosen was on the beach, but the Gulf of Mexico was a far cry from the Pacific waters of her youth. When the rain finally stopped, she took a walk in the surf, surprised at the ocean's warmth. It was like a bath, lapping over her bare feet. A young couple passed by; they were holding hands, stopping every few feet for a kiss.

Her lips ached for his.

Through a hot film of tears, Sara watched the sun dip into the ocean. She wondered if it was still raining in Las Vegas.

* * *

A car honked at him, but he didn't move. Couldn't move. He wasn't even entirely aware that he was standing in the middle of the street.

Eventually the driver swerved around his motionless body, probably flipping him at least one finger. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. Not even the spray of water that the car's tires sent cascading over him.

Grissom's chest rose and fell as he struggled for breath. Rain wet his mouth and ran into his eyes as he stared at the place where her car had just disappeared into the darkness. She was gone. And she'd taken so much of him with her.

Another car honked, but instead of passing, this driver pulled up alongside him and rolled down his window.

"Mister!" the man called out over the sound of the rain. "You okay?"

Wiping the wetness that wasn't entirely rain from his face, Grissom managed to nod. The driver accepted the lie and drove off, leaving Grissom alone again.

Later, he wouldn't remember coming in out of the storm at all.

When he woke up the next morning, his clothes from the night before were in the dryer. The meatless burgers from his freezer were in the garbage. Everything that belonged to her was neatly arranged in a box by the front door, ready to be returned. His sheets had been changed. The nightstand on the side of the bed she'd preferred had been cleared off. The Everly Brothers record was shoved in the back of his closet.

The rain had stopped. And there was no visible trace of Sara Sidle left in Gil Grissom's house.

* * *

"Why am I always on scat duty? And don't tell me it's because I'm the youngest. There's a new chick on swing who can't remember when Michael Jackson was cool."

"Greggo, you're at the bottom of the graveyard food chain. So quit whining and go find a shovel. Catherine wants all the scat you can find within fifty feet of where the body was found."

"She's a sick, sick woman."

At the lull in the break room conversation, Sara entered with a smile plastered on her sun-kissed face. "Go away for a few days and they start talking about you behind your back, I see."

Greg choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Sara! You're back!"

Setting her bag on the table, she allowed him to jump up and hug her. He'd been talking to Nick; as Greg jovially rocked her back and forth, she met Nick's eyes. There were questions there; she quickly looked away.

When Greg finally released her, Nick cleared his throat. "Welcome home. So...where'd you go?"

"We've got a pool going," Greg clarified. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "It'll really help me out if you say Hawaii. Like, a hundred bucks worth of help."

"Who's got money on Florida?" Sara asked.

Warrick entered just then. "That would be me."

"The man can still pick a winner." Should it have been this easy to pretend that nothing was wrong? She wasn't sure, but she kept going anyway. "I've got oranges and key limes for everyone out in my car. You can have them after..."

"Assignments." Grissom walked in, looking down at the slips of paper in his hand. He glanced up at his team members from behind his glasses. When his eyes landed on Sara, he didn't so much as blink. "Catherine's out tonight. Greg, you're on your own; tourist reported missing from the Tangiers." He handed Greg his information. "Be thorough. Anything that threatens the tourism board can get sticky for us." He turned to the older men. "Nick, Warrick...419 in Ely. It's an eight year-old boy."

Nick accepted the assignment with a sigh. "Thanks for the warning."

Her heart thumped harder when he turned to her. "Sara, you have a rape victim waiting for you at Desert Palm. I'll be at her apartment whenever you..."

"Actually...would it possible to maybe switch with Nick or Warrick?"

All eyes were on her, including Grissom's cool glance. "No. It wouldn't be."

"But..."

"Sara." Grissom didn't raise his voice often, but when he did, people paid attention. Inwardly, she flinched. "Go the hospital."

She tried again. "Gris..."

"Now."

Up until then, the guys had been following this exchange intently. But one look at Sara's rapidly deteriorating facade of ease had Nick speaking up. "Boss, I'm really not up for a dead kid tonight. My sister had a baby a few weeks ago and I guess I just..." He stopped. "I don't mind switching with Sara."

"Or Sara could take the missing persons," Greg offered. "I'm still kinda green when it comes to playing politics."

"When I give assignments, they're not up for negotiation," Grissom said, louder than necessary. "I have a female rape victim at Desert Palm and one female CSI available." He paused. "Let's get to work."

At the door, Greg looked back at her. "Can I get my gift of vitamin C before I go?" Sara nodded tightly, and he departed with a jaunty wave, leaving Grissom and Sara alone.

Grissom slipped his hands into his pockets. "The girl's nineteen. Freshman at UNLV. Collect the kit, take her statement. Keep me informed."

She couldn't look at him as she asked, "Is this how it's going to be from now on? Us...butting heads? Barely able to look at each other?"

"I've looked at you several times since I came in here."

Sara shook her head. "You don't understand..."

"I don't need to understand. If you really wanted me to understand, you would have explained yourself at the time. You didn't, ergo I have to conclude that my understanding isn't necessary. And that the only thing I have to do in this situation is accept and move on."

Her chin trembled. "You could? Just like that?"

Grissom leveled her with a look. "I wasn't exactly given a choice."

"Gris, I did what I had to do to..."

He held up his hand. "Sara. We're done." Grissom gestured to the door. "Good luck with the girl."

Greg was waiting for her in the parking lot. As she hauled his gift-wrapped fruit out of her backseat, he gave her a sympathetic look. "Don't take his attitude personally. He's been on the warpath for days. I should have started a pool about when he'd revert to form. There was just no way he could stay that freakishly happy forever."

* * *

There was a box waiting for her in the front office of her apartment complex when she got home early the next morning. No return address, but she recognized the handwriting immediately.

She ate breakfast and took a shower, delaying opening it as long as possible. But the box wasn't going to go away. After changing into loose pajama pants and a tank top, Sara placed the box in front of her on the coffee table and ripped into it.

There was no note. She didn't need one. The contents spoke for themselves.

She threw the shampoo bottles away, making a mental note to find a new brand. Her spare toothbrush followed, along with the half-empty box of condoms that they hadn't needed since she started wearing the patch.

Her nightgown and robe, as well as a few articles of clothing that had gotten mixed with his in the months they'd been together, ended up at the very bottom of a plastic tub filled with her winter clothes, along with a framed picture and a few trinkets she'd bought to put some color in his bedroom.

She set aside the book she'd been reading on and off for a couple of weeks; she wanted to finish it more than she wanted it out of her sight.

The birthday card that she'd spent an hour in Hallmark picking out for him was the last item in the box. It ended up stuck in the pages of her entomology text book.

Once the box was empty, Sara went to her room and crawled under the covers with the straw hat he'd left behind on their last night together.

He could have it back if he asked for it.

* * *

Grissom washed his breakfast down with two fingers of Scotch. His house was quiet. Quiet and sterile. Sara-free.

Supposedly.

He couldn't box up memories.

Maybe it was time to look for a new place.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: It makes me a happy panda to see that so many of you are enjoying the story even though it seems to be making people sad;) Thanks for all the kind words!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

It had always been Sara's experience that pain, like happiness, eventually faded. If you lived through the initial hurt...the fist across your face, the first night in a new foster home, the cold shoulder from the man you loved...it was just a matter of time until it dulled into a bearable ache. If you were really lucky, it would be sooner rather than later.

But it had been two weeks...and the pain wasn't getting any better. Every day, she woke up in her own, lonely bed, her heart hurting more than it had the day before.

Her life had fallen back into familiar patterns, but the old routines were far from comforting. She slept, she worked, she ate, she started all over again. There was nothing to look forward to, and nothing ever changed or improved. The only bright spots were the times he accidentally brushed by her in the hall or addressed her directly. Those times, however, were few and far between.

He was a lot better at moving on than she was.

The boys might have been oblivious to what had stopped taking place right under their noses, but Catherine wasn't. Sara didn't realize this, though, until the afternoon that the older woman showed up at her door.

"You have some goddamn nerve," she said the moment Sara opened the door.

As far as greetings went, it wasn't the worst Sara had ever received. "Can I help you, Catherine?"

"Did your little experiment fail?"

Although she had a pretty good idea of what had brought her there initially, she honestly had no clue what the woman was talking about. But she did know that she didn't want her neighbors to get too much of a show. Sara gestured Catherine inside. She entered the apartment in a cloud of perfume and anger.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, wearily. "Tea? Water?"

Folding her arms, Catherine narrowed her eyes, dangerously. "I don't want a damn thing except an answer."

Sara sank down onto the arm of her couch. "I can't answer a question I don't understand."

"What don't you understand? It was an experiment, wasn't it? You gave the old guy a go, and maybe it wasn't even so bad for awhile. But eventually...what? The silver started looking more like grey? The couple extra inches around the middle started to repulse you? You did the math and realized how old he was when you were born? And suddenly, the whole age difference thing stopped being sexy. So you cut your losses and got out before you wasted another night of your youth."

Catherine's words slammed her directly in her chest, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. "You have no idea how incredibly unfair you're being. Not only to me, but to him," Sara whispered. "I think you should go."

"I'll go when we're done," she snapped. "And we're not done. That man...matters more to me than any man I've ever known. And yeah, I've known a lot of 'em. But he was the first and, to date, the only one who's admired my brain before my body." She took a step towards Sara. "Quite simply, I love him. And you hurt him. Whatever your reasons, I don't think I can ever forgive you for that." Turning on her heel, she started for the door.

"If I hadn't done what I did...he'd be so much more damaged," Sara called out, stopping her. "So don't you come into my home and pass judgement on me. I pay for my decision every second of every fucking day; I don't need you yelling at me about things you only half-understand! And besides..." She folded her arms across her chest. "He seems to have gotten over me just fine."

Catherine stared at her, slowly shaking her head. "How can you have known him for so long...and not know him at all? He's dying inside, Sara." There was a long pause. "Rationalize what you did however you want. But don't lie and say you did it for him."

She was too tired to fight back anymore. "Just...never mind. Nothing I say would make a difference to you right now."

"Do you even care? Does it even matter to you?"

"How can you have known me for any length of time, and still ask that question?"

"I don't know that I ever knew you. I thought you care about him. Loved him, even. But you can't be in love with a man, pursue him for years until he finally gives in and risks everything for you, then run at the first sign of...whatever."

"You can if you if you're trying to protect..."

Catherine pressed her, "Protect? Protect what? Yourself?"

Sara bit her lip. "I can't...I won't do this. I don't have to explain myself to you." She stood and went to the door, opening it. "Goodbye, Catherine."

On her way out, the older woman got in one parting shot. "I'll get him through this. But you're on your own. Hope you're happy with that."

It took her a long time after Catherine's departure to stop shaking.

* * *

Another week passed by in a blur. Her period came and went, and that was one less thing to worry about. Another girl was raped in her off-campus apartment. Then, a third, throwing her and Grissom together on the trail of an escalating serial rapist.

"What do these three women have in common? List anything. Everything." Grissom handed Sara a marker. "First, the obvious."

Sara read out loud as she wrote, "Females."

The barest hint of a smile colored Grissom's somber expression. "Well. I did say 'obvious'." Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he looked away. "Um...students. At UNLV."

She dutifully recorded it on the white board. "They all lived off-campus. Most freshmen live in the dorms."

"That's a big coincidence if the rapist selects his victims at random," he noted.

"Maybe he doesn't." Sara thought for a moment. "What about their class schedules? Freshmen usually take a lot of the same, general courses."

Grissom gathered the lists and looked them over. She took the opportunity to watch him freely. He was a buffet, and she was starving. Eventually, he smiled triumphantly. And made her whole week. "You're right. All three girls take General Biology for Non-Majors."

"Okay..." She hated to ruin the moment, but he had to know. "That only narrows our suspect pool down to roughly...seven hundred and fifty." When he frowned, Sara explained, "That's a lecture course with a cap of 1,500 students."

He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's keep going then."

An hour later, they had a very short list of commonalities. Setting down her marker, Sara stretched her arms over her head, unaware that the movement bared her midriff. When she opened her eyes again, she caught him quickly averting his eyes. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. A warm rush of pleasure ran through her.

It lasted until Catherine entered the room.

"Gil," she addressed him. She very pointedly did not so much as glance at Sara. "What time are you picking me up tonight?"

For a second, Sara stopped breathing.

Grissom frowned and shook his head, like he was lost in a fog. "Where are we going?"

"Please tell me you haven't forgotten." Catherine sighed. "Of course you have. The Sheriff's retirement banquet? Eight o'clock...Venetian ballrooms? Black tie? Is it all coming back to you now?"

"Yeah. Yes. The banquet." He put his glasses back on. "Seven-thirty, I guess?"

"Someone's optimistic about traffic on the Strip."

Grissom tried again. "Seven?"

This seemed to sit better with Catherine. "We'll have time for a drink. See you then."

When she was gone, there was a long minute of silence before Sara started gathering papers. "We're pretty much done here," she said, desperate to keep her tone light and care-free. So he was taking Catherine to a banquet. It was a business thing and they were friends. It shouldn't be bothering her.

But it was.

"Well, I'm sure you have other places to be," Grissom said, coolly.

Sara stood up, hugging the files to her chest. "So do you. Apparently." She paused. "Have a good time."

"Sara, wait!" Hope lept into her heart; she turned around at the door and looked back at him.

He held out a file she'd left behind. Crossing back to the table, Sara yanked it out of his hand.

When she looked back for a second time, he was buried in a different case, oblivious to anything or anyone.

Leaving the layout room, Sara headed straight for Ecklie's office. "I need another favor," she announced, startling him with her unannounced and unbidden arrival. "Get me invited to the Sheriff's retirement banquet."

* * *

He was no better at bowties than he had been the last time he'd been forced to wear one. But this time, Grissom was armed with a much better diagram. He wouldn't need a woman's help. When he picked Catherine up at her place, she even complimented him on his skills.

With the extra time their early departure afforded them, they sat down for a drink along the Venetian's canal. Scotch had become his friend over the past weeks, helping him burn away images of Sara in his bed, tangled in his sheets when he couldn't sleep. He sipped his drink slowly, though. Not the quick gulps he'd become accustomed to, as they cleared his mind so much faster. Catherine would notice if he wasn't careful.

Fortunately, her focus was on other things. "Is the dress too much?" she asked him. It wasn't her first attempt to start a conversation, but it was the first he allowed to work. He didn't need to look; he'd already given her an obligatory once-over. The slinky red number she had on would probably work on any other man.

He told her as much by raising his glass. "Everyone's looking at you, kid."

"Except you." She tossed her hair out of her eyes. "Don't you miss my tush anymore?"

"I miss a lot of things."

Grissom didn't realize he was staring into his glass until Catherine reached across the little table and touched his arm. "It's okay. You're better off without her." She tugged at his sleeve. "You haven't really talked about it. You can, you know. Lay it all on me. We can hate her together."

He drained his glass and shook his head. "No. There is no hating her." He signaled the waiter for another round, even though Catherine had barely touched her martini. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, but gave in with a smooth sip of her drink. They sat in silence for a minute, until his second Scotch was delivered. Again, he tried to go easy on it. But there was a desperation in the way he held the glass that gave him away. After a few sips, he really didn't care anymore.

"Gil," she started after a moment of looking at something over his shoulder. She fixed a cat-like smile on her face. "We're friends, right? No matter what?"

Grissom frowned. "Not when you look at me like that."

Igoring his reply, Catherine raised her arm and gave a little wave to whatever was behind him. Curiousity prevailed, and he craned his neck to see what was going on. There was a woman heading towards them. Blonde, early to mid-forties, petite, pretty, wearing a black coctail dress. She returned Catherine's wave.

He turned back around. "Friend of yours, I hope?"

"Friend of mine," Catherine confirmed. "And after tonight, hopefully a friend of yours, too." She stood up as the woman reached their table. "You made it...wonderful!" she exclaimed, kissing the woman's cheek.

The woman returned the embrace. "I hope I'm not late. Traffic was abominable!"

"You're right on time. Joanna Hall, I'd like you to meet Gil Grissom. Gil, this is my friend, Joanna."

Engrained politeness dictated that he stand and shake her hand. "Hello, Joanna."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, holding onto his hand for a moment longer than necessary. "Cath's told me so much about you. I feel like I know you already."

"I'm so sorry I can't say the same thing." Grissom shot Catherine a deadly look which she totally missed. She was too busy looking down at her gold watch.

"Well, I should be going," she announced. "This is about the time when Lindsey starts getting calls from her flock of teenage admirers. I like to be there to answer the phone and weed out the truly offensive ones."

Joanna laughed at this, but Gil wasn't so amused. "You're leaving?" he asked between clenched teeth. "So soon?"

"The Sheriff won't miss me." Catherine kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the drink." She picked up her clutch. "Have a nice night, you two." With that, she escaped, an extra gleam in her eye.

"She's one of my oldest and dearest friends," Joanna said. "But she's no better at subterfuge than she was in high school." She gave him a warm smile. "I hope this isn't a totally unpleasant turn of events."

Grissom shook his head. Catherine was Catherine. Her intentions were good, but her timing was terrible. Still, that wasn't Joanna's fault, and she didn't deserve to be punished for Catherine's misguided matchmaking. "It's fine. Please...sit down." Once they were seated, he asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Gin and tonic, thanks." He motioned for the waiter again and placed the order. Her eyes were on him the entire time. "I think she arranged things this way because she wasn't sure you'd agree to go on a blind date. Not that I can blame you for that. I wasn't sure I was going to come myself until about an hour ago."

He took a long swallow of Scotch. "I'm not fundamentally opposed to blind dates. But what Catherine has probably failed to mention is that I've just...gotten out of a...a very serious relationship. I'm not ready to..."

"You don't have to go into details," Joanna said, sympathetically. "Why don't we agree right now that this isn't a romantic date? It'll just be two people who have a friend in common, finding out if they can be friends, too. What do you say?"

There really wasn't much he could say. The only thing worse than having to attend one of these banquets was having to attend them alone. It might be nice to walk into the ballroom with a woman other than Catherine.

He'd always wanted to walk in with Sara.

Grissom stood, buttoned his tuxedo jacket and offered Joanna his hand.

* * *

She was running late. But that's what happened when you tried to pull a formal look together on extreme short notice. Fortunately she'd found a dress she actually liked in the first store she'd entered. Shoes had taken a little bit longer, and she wasn't at all comfortable with the two-inch heel, but they matched. She'd try not to think about what wearing them could be doing to her spinal cord.

The Venetian's valet parkers took her keys at the front entrance, and Sara entered the hotel, a bit breathless, wondering just what the hell she'd been thinking when she wrangled the invitation. Was she really jealous of Catherine? She'd worked with Grissom a lot longer than Sara had; if she had designs on him, wouldn't she have made a move before now? Catherine wasn't shy type.

Maybe it wasn't jealousy at all. Maybe she just wanted to see Grissom in a tux.

She passed by a wall of mirrors in the lobby and paused for a second. The dress she'd bought was dark blue and floor length, with a slit up to her thigh. Its scooped neckline was modest without being matronly. She hadn't had the time or the patience to do much more than the usual with her hair. She'd added a gold necklace and some earrings at the last minute. The results weren't half bad, she figured.

When she finally entered the ballroom, she was relieved to find that the speeches hadn't started. There were a lot of important faces milling about the room, sipping drinks and nibbling on appetizers. She accepted a glass of champagne from a server, if only to blend in better. Her eyes scanned the crowd, but failed to locate either Grissom or Catherine.

Sara began weaving her way through the people, occasionally meeting the eye of someone she knew. Only once was she forced to stop and make a moment of polite conversation. Actually, it wasn't entirely bad. She'd never met Doc Robbin's wife before. She hadn't even known that he and the Sheriff were friends.

But once the couple had moved on, she resumed her search. It ended a moment later when she saw him sitting at a table, laughing at something a blonde woman, who definitely wasn't Catherine, was telling him. The woman put her hand on his arm and leaned closer to him. He didn't stiffen up or pull away. He just kept smiling.

The thing was...she couldn't even be crushed. He was smiling again. Of all the regrets she had, taking away his smile was one of the biggest and most painful. If this new woman could give it back to him, she had no right to be upset about it. And certainly she had no right to wish it away.

She slipped out of the ballroom as invisibly as she'd slipped in.

Whatever else, at least now she had a formal dress.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks everyone, for hanging in there with me. Sue, Reg, Donna...this one's for y'all;)

* * *

All I Have to Do 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Their serial rapist chose to escalate on what would have been their one year anniversary. 

They'd had a tentative plan to take the evening off, with one of them putting in a vacation request and the other feigning illness. But as it turned out, they were both called to another off-campus apartment wherein lay the raped and strangled body of a UNLV freshman.

Sara arrived first and tried not to wonder what, or who, was holding Grissom up. The dead girl deserved better than a CSI who was obsessing over her ex's social life.

When Grissom did show up twenty minutes later, he was wearing what Sara had often teasingly referred to as his "dress-up clothes," the shirts and pants that were formal enough for court appearances and fancy restaurants.

"I was hoping he'd be the rare exception and not escalate," Grissom sighed as he set his kit down next to Sara's.

She lowered her camera in acknowledgement. "Luck wasn't on her side."

While she photographed the body, he pulled on a pair of gloves and looked around. "Two bedrooms. She's the first to have a roommate."

"No roommate. Just able to afford it, I guess."

Grissom chewed on this for a moment. "I find it highly unlikely that he just happened to choose a two-bedroom apartment that was only occupied by one girl. The perp knows a lot more about his victims than just that they're freshman living off-campus."

"That they're freshman living off-campus…alone." She stood up to take full body shots. "Would the university's housing department have that information?"

"I think we should find out."

As they processed the scene, they kept this running chat going, back and forth, neutral and professional. The significance of the day, however, was the proverbial pink elephant in the room.

When David took the body away, Sara allowed her thoughts to wander back to what Grissom's evening might have been like before his pager called him to the scene. Had the blonde woman from the banquet made an appearance? Who was she? How had Grissom met her? Were they friends or more?

It was a dangerous train of thought; she had no desire to become a jealous hag.

"Sara?"

He was over at the front door, crouched down with his back to the room. She crossed to him, but the only way to see what he was holding in his hand was to get down on her knees behind him.

There was now no doubt in her mind that he'd been out on a date when he was paged. She could very faintly smell cologne, like he'd tried to wash it away before arriving at the scene, but hadn't totally succeeded. The woman must be special; he'd never worn cologne for her.

"It's only a partial, but it's a print," Grissom informed her, pointing to the linoleum entrance. "Looks like a boot."

"Well, our girl doesn't seem like the Doc Marten type. Good possibility that it's the killer's."

She was so immersed in thought that she didn't even feel her breast come into contact with his shoulder blade.

Unaware, Sara continued, "I'll check her closet out just in…"

"Could you move back a ways?" Grissom's voice was sharp and strained. "You're too close."

Standing on shaky legs, she did as he requested. "I…I didn't realize." She folded her arms, protectively. "You don't need to snap at me."

He stood and faced her. "You're right. Please accept my apology."

His words were cool. No, cold. A shiver ran down her spine. "You also don't have to treat me like a stranger on the street."

"What do you want, Sara? One moment, I'm not allowed to show emotion, and the next I'm accused of not showing any."

Sara shook her head. "I just…I just want us…to be okay."

Grissom stared at her for a minute. "And what is your definition of okay in our situation?"

"I…" She floundered for an answer. "I don't know. Maybe it's juvenile, but I…guess I'd like us to be…friends."

"Well, then we have a fundamental difference of opinion." He looked her straight in the eye. "I don't want to be your friend."

A moment passed before Sara had to look away, lest she break down right in front of him. "I'll get the…" She couldn't think of the name of the instrument at the moment. "The thing…to collect the print."

She thought she heard him sigh, but it might have been her imagination. Before he could reply, his cell phone rang. It wasn't her intent to eavesdrop, but she didn't hurry back to work either, taking her time getting the right equipment from her kit.

"Grissom," he answered. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes, of course." Another second passed. "Hi. So, how was your fish? Good. Again, I'm sorry about having to leave." There were long pauses between his answers." I know…I appreciate that. I'm not sure when I'll be done here. Yes, that might be best. I'll call you tomorrow. Okay. You, too. Bye."

Sara swallowed back a lump in her throat. She dug into her kit and asked, as casually as possible, "Your date, I assume?"

He put his phone away. "You could call her that."

She nodded. Because it was all she could do. "The woman from the banquet?" Instantly, she regretted the words. "Never mind," she quickly added. "I don't really want to know. It doesn't really matter anyway. I mean…whoever she is, you must really like her. The cologne…" She raised one shoulder. "I've never known you to wear any."

There was another long, painful pause. "I'm going to check out her closet," Grissom announced. "Collect the print, and then you can start dusting." He picked up his kit and disappeared into the victim's bedroom.

Sara snapped on a fresh pair of gloves, barely even feeling the sharp slap of latex against her skin.

* * *

The body wouldn't be posted until morning, being that there had been a five car pile up on I-15 that was keeping the coroner's office busy. Once the few prints they had found were in the system and the DNA from the rape kit was on the list to processed, there was very little left for them to do. 

Sara arrived home emotionally and physically drained. As was her new habit, she turned on the television to alleviate the utter silence of her apartment. It didn't really matter what station she was on, or what was being shown.

Today it happened to be infomercials; it was too early in the morning yet for daytime programming. As she fixed her breakfast of cereal and toast, she could hear two way overexcited actors talking about a music collection only available through a limited time offer.

"Sounds of the Jukebox is a must-have for anyone who remembers with special fondness the good old days of rock and roll. You'll get over 200 of your favorite hits on ten CD's. Do you know what my favorites are, Bob?"

Sara shook her head as she slathered butter onto her toast and Bob replied, "Tell me, Cindy."

"Love songs. And Sounds of the Jukebox is perfect for the hopeless romantic in all of us. Remember this classic from the Everly Brothers?"

She froze, praying that it wouldn't be…

_I need you so that I could die _

_I love you so and that is why _

_Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream_

Bob and Cindy gushed on, but Sara was no longer listening. The knife in her hand clattered onto the counter as she lost the ability to hold it. The tears she'd reigned in ever since the banquet broke free of their dam and welled up in her chest with such intensity that she doubled over.

She clapped her hand against her mouth in a last ditch attempt to keep them at bay. But she failed. Sara slipped to the floor, her whole body racked with sobs.

Sara had no way of telling how long she knelt there in the kitchen, crying. She vaguely wondered if she'd ever just dry out; the tears didn't show any signs of slowing. The realization that the man she still loved had started dating wasn't going to just go away. Neither was the fact that she had caused it.

There was a knock on her door. Her head shot up. As she sat there for another few seconds trying to figure out whom it could be and whether she wanted to expend the energy to find out, the knocking grew more insistent.

With a clean dishtowel, she dried her eyes as she walked into the living room. Sara drew in several ragged breaths meant to calm her down, and pulled the door open.

He was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on at the crime scene. Upon first glance, his expression was one of anger. But something happened when he saw her eyes, red and puffy.

Grissom stood there for a second. Finally, he slipped his hands into his pockets. "My date was my mother." When Sara didn't say anything, he continued, "She…surprised me with a visit. I got the page in the middle of dinner, and had to leave her in the restaurant. So she called to check up on me."

Her voice was weak from the tears. "Your mother is deaf, though."

"We use the relay operator. Remember? As for the cologne…she gave me this bottle once. When you're missing one sense, the others become even more important. I wear it to make her happy." He frowned. "Not that I need to explain any of this to you."

"No." She cleared her throat. "You don't."

Grissom turned, as if to leave, but then thought better of it. "How did you even know about Joanna and the banquet? Office gossip?"

"I was there. Briefly." Sara tugged her lower lip between her teeth. "You looked…really happy."

"Then I'm a better actor than I thought. 'There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness.' Alfred de Musset." He broke the stare by looking down at the ground and swearing. It was so rare to hear a word like that escape from his lips. He looked back up with anguish in his eyes. "There is no other woman, Sara. There can't be. Catherine can set me up with her entire graduating class, but it won't make a difference. What I want…I can't have anymore. Can I?"

A stray tear slipped down her cheek. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out and placing her palm against his bearded cheek. He closed his eyes at the light contact. When she suddenly remembered herself and tried to pull back, he captured her wrist and held her hand in place.

Their eyes met. Slowly, Grissom turned his head. His breath was warm against her fingers, and her own eyes shut when he pressed a kiss into her center of her palm.

Sara opened her eyes again and something unspoken passed between them. The next heat she felt was his lips against hers.

Her body knew exactly how to respond. Even as her brain screamed that they couldn't do this, that there were too many consequences and if she gave in, she'd never be able to let go again…she couldn't stop her arms from circling his neck as their mouths met over and over, mad and desperate.

It was crazy. It was wrong. But his hands were in her hair, on her skin, and she just didn't care about Ecklie or the DA or even the job at all.

Grissom kicked the door shut. They didn't make it all the way to the bedroom. Somewhere in the fog that his kisses and caresses spun around her, Sara thanked herself for buying thick throw rugs.

* * *

To Be Continued 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: As always, my thanks to all of you.

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"We should get up."

It was the first full sentence either of them had been able to form in quite awhile. Insted of responding right away, Grissom ducked his head to kiss her shoulder blade. Sara closed her eyes and smiled at the familiar tickle of his beard against her bare skin. They were spooned on the floor, her head resting on his outstretched arm. A blanket from the couch covered them, not that they needed its warmth. They'd created plenty of that on their own.

Yet...it shouldn't have happened. She'd allowed herself to forget everything for one incredible moment. But reality lurked just beyond the afterglow and the longer she ignored it, the more painful it would be when it arrived on its own.

"No, this is good," he murmured, unaware of anything wrong. "Sleeping on the floor never killed anyone. That I know of. Unless you're not comfortable, honey."

"It's not that." She gazed at their entwined fingers. It was now or never. "We just...we shouldn't be here...like this."

And suddenly, the room was stone cold. After a few moments, Grissom sat up; she had to react quickly to keep her head from landing on the floor.

When he finally spoke, there was an unfamiliar tremble in his voice. "So...what was this, then? An itch you needed to scratch?"

She deserved the sting of that. "You came here," Sara forced herself to remind him. "I didn't ask for this happen."

He turned his head, as if he was going to look back at her, but his gaze didn't make it all the way around. "You didn't stop it, either."

"I should have." She laid her head back down, this time on her own arm. "I'm sorry."

To hear Grissom curse once was strange. Twice in a couple of hours was disturbing, even if he did mutter it under his breath. "Don't be." Leaving her the blanket, he stood and started searching for his pants. "You can be a lot of things, Sara. But sorry...no." He yanked them on with short, angry movements that belied his cool, detached tone of voice. "Before I go, could I please have my hat back? The one..."

"I know which one." Wrapping the blanket around her body, Sara stood up and walked down the hall to her bedroom. His straw hat was sitting on the neatly made bed, like it belonged there.

As she reached for it, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over her dresser. She looked, to be frank, thoroughly screwed. Her hair was hoplessly tangled, her skin was still flushed pink, and there was a spot of dark red at the base of her throat. She touched the place where he'd unconsciously marked her. It said a lot about the power of what had just happened between them; after all, she didn't bruise easily.

Returning to the living room with his hat, she found him buttoning his shirt. "If I find anything else of yours around here, I suppose you'd like me to box it up and mail it to you," she said, unable to keep the bitterness she felt out of her words.

He must have caught on. Of course he caught on. He was Grissom. "How else was I supposed to get your things back to you discreetly?"

"Maybe you weren't supposed to."

"You didn't want your Harvard shirt back, then?"

Sara clutched the blanket tighter around her chest. "The birthday card...belonged to you," she whispered.

Grissom pushed the last button through its eye with extreme precision. "I think it's the right of the person who's been dumped to decide what they keep and what they don't."

"Did you even wait a day before you eliminated me from your house?"

He looked up. "Why does it matter? You were already three thousand miles away by the time I even started breathing again."

She swiped at her cheeks. "I've never known you to be melodramatic."

"Being thrown over twice by someone I love can have that effect on me, apparently." Grissom left his shirt tails hanging out as he pulled on his suit jacket. "What would you rather I have done back then? Fly to Florida and beg you to reconsider? Talk about melodrama."

"I wanted you to fight for us!" The words came out before she could stop them. But once they were out, she realized they'd been pent up for far too long. "I wanted you to care enough to try...to make me want to fight, too."

He buried his hands in his pockets. "Sara...I can't be expected to make all the right moves if I'm in the dark about the rules of the game. There are things you're keeping from me. And until you tell me your reasons for why we can't be together, my hands are tied."

"If I told you why..." She shook her head. "...you'd come to the same conclusion I did."

Grissom shrugged. "We won't know that for sure until you do." He withdrew one hand and held it out for the hat.

With great reluctance, Sara let it go. Another minute later, her apartment was back to its usual solitude.

* * *

He stopped at home long enough to shower, shave and down a fortifying cup of coffee. After calling his mother and promising another try at dinner that night, Grissom drove straight to the lab. With any luck, they'd have some results back. At the very least, the autopsy should be underway.

Judy handed him his messages as he walked past her desk; the top slip was from the print lab. He detoured from his path to his office, and headed straight there.

"Got a hit from your scene last night," the technician told him with her usual lack of enthusiasm. She pulled it up on her computer. "Meet John James Walker."

Grissom brow creased dangerously. All he could see was the man's hand connecting with Sara's face. It was a familiar image, one that had featured heavily in his nightmares. "It's JJ. And we've met. Are you sure about these results?"

"Five points of commonality on a partial. I could hand it to you on a silver platter, but I don't make enough to afford one."

"JJ Walker is supposed to be in jail awaiting trial."

She pulled up another screen. "His rap sheet says he's out on bail."

Confused, Grissom nudged her aside to look for himself. "In what universe does a judge grant bail to someone who attacked a CSI in police custody?"

"Um...am I really supposed to answer that?"

He didn't hear her. He was already out the door.

* * *

Sara knew something was wrong. Something more than just the fact that he was gone. But it wasn't until she started soaping up in the shower that she realized what it was.

When it had come time to change her birth control patch...she'd only gotten so far as removing the old one.

The new one was still sitting in its box, where it had been for almost two weeks. Her reasoning at the time had been simple. If she wasn't going to be having sex, she didn't need to worry about getting pregnant. She hadn't anticipated last night. And now her oversight might very well have gotten them into a much more complicated situation.

She called her gynocologist before she even dried off. "I need an appointment for today," she informed the receptionist. "For an ECP."

A few hours later, the doctor handed her a foil package. "I know that in working with victims, you've probably encountered this before, but let's go over it anyway, in case you have questions. Given the approximate time of intercourse, you have less than 72 hours to take the pill. The sooner you do, however, the more effective it is in preventing conception. There are a few side affects. Some people experience nausea or cramping. In very rare cases, there is some minor spotting. Of course, if that happens, I want you back in here immediately. Like any other method, it's not a hundred percent. Any questions so far?"

"Just...um...one." Sara touched the spot at the base of throat, which she'd successfully hidden with a dark turtleneck. "Do you think the...potential father should have a say in whether or not I take this?"

The doctor considered her for a moment. "That's not exactly a medical question, Sara."

"I know. Your educated opinion, then?"

"As a doctor, I would have to say that its your body. Your decision." She paused. "But as a woman in a committed relationship, I can't dismiss your partner's role, physically or emotionally. Whatever you decide, though, you've got a very limited window of time."

Sara took the pill and tucked it into her bag. Now all she had to do was have the most difficult conversation of her life with a man who would probably do anything to avoid talking to her.

* * *

The DA kept him waiting for forty-five minutes. By the time Grissom was finally called in, his anger had not cooled off as he had hoped it would. Instead, it had festered and grown stronger. As soon as the man closed his door behind them, Grissom reached his breaking point.

"So which of your hot off the bar, pre-pubescent ADA's couldn't keep a man whose DNA was found inside a murdered woman off the streets?"

"Gil, have a seat." The DA gestured to the leather chairs in front of his desk.

Grissom shook his head. "Let's forgoe the formalities. Tell me why my print lab just matched a partial print belonging to JJ Walker in the apartment of a college freshman who was murdered last night?"

"I'm familiar with the case. In fact..." He dug into a drawer. "I have it right here."

"Then you should know that someone in this office dropped the ball. That man is a murderer, and he assualted one of my CSI's. He should be behind bars."

"What I know is that if Mr. Walker's lawyer hadn't pointed out to the arraigning judge that the CSI his client struck was in a relationship with her supervisor, who happened to be her partner on the case, he probably would be."

It was odd. He was usually only this at a loss for words when he was around Sara. "What?" was all he could get out.

"I realize that you're not together anymore, but at the time, the judge seemed to think the fact that the two CSI's on the case were sleeping together somehow affected the collection of the evidence. There wasn't much my ADA could do."

His tongue was starting to work again. "Sara and I...are and were professionals. Your ADA didn't bother to point that out?"

"Look, Gil, it's no secret that you're...pardon me for this...politically retarded. But it can't have escaped your attention that when you're in law enforcement, in any aspect, your ethics have to be unquestionable. You and CSI Sidle must have discussed that when you called off the relationship. Ecklie said she understood, anyway. I know you and he have an adversarial accquaintance at best, but..."

The DA kept talking, but it was just background noise as a million thoughts raced through Grissom's mind.

_It's not you. It's not even me._

_I'm doing this for us, Gris. Remember that when you start hating me._

_If I told you why, you'd come to the same conclusion I did._

Grissom felt his hands gripping the back of one of the DA's chairs so tightly that the pristine leather was in danger.

"She knew," he said, his teeth gritted. The DA stopped talking. "All this time...she's known."

The other man cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden twist in the conversation. "Gil...we didn't just let JJ Walker go with our blessings. We had him fixed up with an ankle tracking device. I'll get you his movements from last night. If he was at your scene..." He sighed. "It'll be a political nightmare when it's discovered that we had him, but had to release him."

"And...it'll be our fault."

A few seconds passed. "Well, regardless. The lab's doing great work these days. Keep it up." He picked up his phone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work."

Out in his car, he dialed Sara's cell phone, unaware that at that moment, she was sitting in her gynocologist's office with her phone turned off.

"Sara, it's me," Grissom said after the beep. "We need to talk."

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: My use of the "morning-after" pill is in no way a political statement. Saying that I'm pro-choice, however, definitely is one. If you were offended by this part of my story, what can I say? If I took offense at the pro-life billboards up and down I-75, I doubt anyone would care. Consider me off the soapbox now;)


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I have never had so much turmoil over a chapter as I did with this one. I wrote literally a half-dozen different versions, all of which, to put it succinctly, sucked. I almost settled on one of them, but two very good friends convinced me not to. I cannot thank ScullyasTrinity enough for her insight and honesty, nor can I adequately express my gratitude to Sue for her enthusiasm and kindness. I never would have gotten this chapter out without them. Thank you for continuing to read my stories, everyone. Having smart readers makes me a better writer;)

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

A little boy ran past her bench, screaming in terror. Sara sat up a bit straighter until his pursuer passed by, an equally young girl with messy braids. Sara watched as the boy tripped over his shoelaces and landed in a soft patch of grass, giving the girl a chance to catch up to him and plant a kiss squarely on his cheek. She couldn't help but laugh as the boy started writhing in imaginary agony.

School had let out, and all over the park there were groups of children. Running, jumping, climbing, digging...just generally enjoying the freedom of the afternoon. Not for the first time, she wondered why she'd agreed to meet him here, of all places. Logically, she knew it was for the best that they meet in a public place, lest they wind up on the floor again. Being alone in a private place was just an invitation for another dangerous liaison.

But was this sunny park, so full of life and joy, really the place to have the conversation that they needed to have?

Sara was so focused on everything else around her that she didn't even sense him approaching the bench. It was only when he sat down next to her, and every nerve in her body cried out that he was near, that she blinked and looked over at him.

He was staring straight ahead, his hands on his knees like he was ready to take off again at any second. Sara studied his profile, the angle of his nose, the curve of his lips, the line of his jaw. God, that face...even when it it wasn't perfect, it was still just right. She could spot it in a crowd of thousands, and it would be the only one that caught her eye. Sometimes she wondered if part of his appeal was that he had absolutely no idea how handsome he was.

She looked down at his hands, surprised to see that his knuckles were turning white as he clutched his knees with restrained force. Worried, Sara looked back at him. His whole body was rigid now; she could feel the tension as much as she could see it.

Without thinking, Sara covered his hand with hers.

He dropped his chin to look at their hands. Finally, he spoke. "Did you know?" He lifted his head and looked at her. "Did you know that they let him free because of us?" True confusion touched Sara's expression. "JJ Walker. Did you know that he walked because of our relationship?"

"No," she whispered, stunned. "I didn't know. But..."

"What, Sara?" Grissom looked back and forth between her eyes. "Don't stop. Whatever it is, tell me."

She expelled a short, shaky breath. "I thought that if we weren't together...he couldn't."

There was a long pause as he digested this. "I need...no, I deserve to hear everything."

Sara pulled her hand away from his and tucked it under her arm. It only took her a minute to sum up her conversations with Ecklie. When she was done, she looked at him. "You have to understand, I never wanted to be in a position to choose between my job and my..." She smiled sadly "...my life. But when it came down to it, I couldn't throw away all of our hard work. And I can't even blame anyone else. I was given a choice. I did what I thought was best for everyone. Even if it meant breaking our hearts."

Another minute passed. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I never wanted you to shoulder that load."

"You kept me in the dark," he added, gravely.

Sara shook her head. "That's not it at all. I spared you from having to make that choice."

His voice raised. "It was my choice, too!" When a kid several yards away looked at them, Grissom lowered it again. "You should have come to me. We should have decided together."

"Would the decision we made have been any different?" she asked, quietly.

She felt him staring at her profile as she had stared at his only minutes earlier. "You think...I wouldn't have taken the risk."

Sara closed her eyes. "It's happened before."

Grissom ran a hand down his beard. "So. That's it, then. It's not that you don't want to be with me. It's that you can't trust that I want to be with you."

When she opened her eyes again, they were wet. "If we weren't who we are in the profession we've both chosen, I have no doubt that we could be..." Her voice broke. "...we could be so happy."

"We were so happy, Sara."

"And look what happened! JJ Walker is probably locating his next victim because of it!"

Grissom shook his head. "JJ Walker is free because the system has flaws. But we're not one of them."

She spoke slowly and from memory. "We have to be above reproach."

"We could be, and still be together," he said, as though he was still the teacher and she was still the wayward student. "Your paperwork and evaluations could go through Ecklie instead of me. If it came down to it, one of us could transfer to another shift."

"Don't you think I thought this through before I showed up at your house that night? I told myself these same things. And there's just no way around it, Gris!" Her head swung back and forth. "There wasn't any other way."

"There's always a way, Sara. But it usually doesn't involve quitting."

She sniffed. "Who said that?"

"I did." Their eyes met for a long moment before he continued. "You said you wanted me to fight for us? Why should I when you didn't even try to?"

"I've been fighting for us a lot longer than you have," she reminded him.

He was quiet again, looking down at his hands. "When Holly Gribbs was shot and I realized there would be an internal investigation...I could only think of one person to bring in. One person that I trusted. You didn't disappoint me then, and you haven't since." The pause that followed was painful. "Until now." He stood up.

"You're giving up?" She bit back the tremble in her lower lip.

"I'm taking some time. You've had weeks with all of this, Sara. I haven't."

She was all too aware of the foil package inside her purse. "We don't have weeks, Gris. I need to tell you something."

"Now you feel like sharing? No. We've shared enough for one day." He stood there for another second. "Maybe just one more thing. JJ Walker's print was found at the scene from last night. The DA is getting us the data from his monitoring device. If he was there, we have him. Again." Grissom looked at her. "Don't be late tonight. We have a lot of work to do."

Sara buried her face in her hands after he walked off.

Going to the doctor to get the pill had been so automatic that she hadn't even really taken the time to think over any alternatives. The odds that one sexual encounter could even result in a pregnancy were on the slim side to begin with. There probably wasn't anything to prevent. But if there was...what would it be like to carry a child? Not just any child. A child that was a little bit of her and a little bit of Grissom.

It would be disastrous, she told herself. If something had resulted from their lovemaking, there couldn't be any romantic visions of motherhood. She would have to deal with the problem as a scientist. As detestable as that was, there were too many complications for her to risk an innocent life. Somehow, she would have to make him see that, too.

If he didn't already.

But the next time she saw him, 24 hours would have passed. Time was slipping away.

* * *

Getting a court order for JJ Walker's movements turned out to be more time-consuming than the DA had anticipated. When Grissom arrived at the lab that night, after having dinner with his mother, a message was waiting, informing him of the delay. Legalities. They were as much of a nuisance as politics.

Even without the data from the man's monitor, what they had was enough to bring him in for questioning. And despite his best efforts to keep her from finding out about it, Sara met him at the police station, almost like she was looking forward to being in the same room as the man again.

"You're not going in there," he told her after pulling her out of the main corridor, away from any curious eyes.

She looked down at his hand as it gripped her elbow. "This our case. Whatever else, that hasn't changed."

"He hit you, Sara. I don't want you anywhere near him." He knew right then that she could see straight through him. In a futile attempt to cover, he added, "Your presence could provoke him again. And then we'll get nothing."

When she stood this close to him, she could talk him into anything. Her scent was intoxicating, and far more powerful than his common sense. "I'll be on my best behavior. As long as he is." She leaned forward and pressed a soft, quick kiss onto his lips. "Thank you for still worrying about me."

They came back into the corridor and found Brass waiting for them with a small, but triumphant smile. "He's got his lawyer with him. Give him hell, Sara."

Grissom frowned at him, as well as Sara who smirked at the comment. "Aren't you coming in?"

"I've got two officers in there this time, Gil. And he's restrained." Brass shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

They entered the interrogation room, much to JJ Walker's amusement. "You're kidding," he said to his lawyer. "Ain't they learned the first time?"

"Apparently not." Malcolm folded his arms as Grissom and Sara took their seats. "I hope you have a good reason for harassing my client."

"Check your law dictionary under harassment," Sara said. "And in the meantime, we'll ask your client why we found his print at the scene of yet another murder."

"They're making that up," JJ protested. "They're trying to frame me!"

"Last night, a young woman named Lara Monroe was raped and strangled in her apartment," Grissom said, offering up a picture of the victim. "We..."

"Lara," JJ interrupted. "Yeah...yeah, I know that slut. Uppity. Liked to walk on the wild side, but not in public. Met her at Bar 911. We ended up doing it at her place. But shit...that was months ago." He looked at his lawyer. "I ain't seen the cunt since."

"Boy, JJ." Sara shook her head. "Women just do you wrong, don't they?"

"Don't start with me again, bitch."

Grissom leaned forward. "Hey. Look at me. That monitor they put around your ankle...that's going to tell us whether you were at Lara Monroe's apartment last night. And if you were, nothing your lawyer says or does will get you home in time for dinner."

"As much as you might like to, you can't pin every murder in this city on my client." Malcolm stood up. "You know where to find him. Officer, get rid of these handcuffs." One of the guards stepped forward and produced a key.

After the cuffs were removed, JJ looked at Sara. "I guess I should be thanking you. He told me I wouldn't've gotten bail if you hadn't been spreading for your boss." He grinned at Grissom. "Bet she likes it rough, right? From behind. You can always tell. It's in a bitch's..."

Rage was an interesting thing. It could build up slowly, or come over you so quickly that before you knew it, your fist was on a collision course with someone else's face. No wonder it was a deadly sin.

There was a sickening crunch of cartilage as Grissom's knuckles slammed upwards into JJ's nose. Shocked by the blow, JJ fell backwards into his lawyer. Blood flowed freely down his chin and dripped onto the floor.

Grissom was only vaguely aware of JJ screaming for his lawyer and his lawyer yelling for the officer. His attention was solely on Sara. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. He didn't realize why until he felt cold metal clamped around his wrists.

"I'm sorry, Grissom." The officer sighed and shook his head. "You're under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney..."

Malcolm smiled. "And you're going to need a good one."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone for continuing to read and review. Enjoy!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"What were you thinking?"

Grissom lifted his head and looked past the bars of the holding cell. He'd always figured that nothing could shock Catherine anymore. It was interesting to find out that his arrest and detention could.

"Sara?" he asked.

She misinterpreted his inquiry as an answer. "Of course. I should have known," she said, bitterly. "Who else could make you act so...completely and stupidly and uncharacteristically reckless? My god, Gil...do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I'm aware of the consequences of my actions," was all he would say. "Don't blame her for them."

Catherine moved closer to the bars that separated them. "You don't belong here."

"I broke the law. So, yes, I do."

That line of questioning wasn't getting her anywhere. There was a long pause. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

He leaned back against the cinderblock wall. "Not in detail, but I assume it was your first night on the job."

"No, it wasn't. My final interview. Ecklie was my tour guide. And you were coming down the hallway with a jar of cockroaches under your arm. He stopped you to make the introductions." She shook her head, amused at the memory. "I was wearing my most professional outfit. But, you know, I wanted to make an impression. There was some cleavage. Ecklie hadn't actually looked me in the face. But you...you couldn't take your eyes off the bugs. It was refreshing." Catherine paused. "I think I fell a little bit in love with you right then."

Grissom looked up. "Cath?"

"This isn't a profession of any hidden romantic intentions," she assured him. "I was smart enough even back then not to try to go down that road with you. Not that you would have been up for it." Her tone took on a slightly bitter note. "Especially after you got back from that lecture series in San Francisco. You know...you were different after that. And I didn't know what the difference was until she arrived."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I just want to understand why. Can you tell me that? Why did you risk everything for her?"

He met her stare. "What would you do for someone you loved?"

"Protect them," she replied. "That's kind of what I'm trying to do here."

"I appreciate that. But you don't need to protect me from Sara. I did everything in my power to protect myself from her for years. And all it did was make both of us miserable."

Catherine let out a resigned sigh. There really was nothing more she could do, and she knew it. "Do you have a lawyer?"

"Yes. I'll be arraigned in a few hours."

"What are you going to plead?" When he said nothing, she went on. "You can't plead guilty. You have to at least try...to save your career." Still, he said nothing. Once more, she realized it was futile and moved on. But not without another, deeper sigh. "Can I do anything? Bring you something?"

Grissom thought for a moment. "My mother is staying at the Hilton. Can you..."

"Yeah. I'll take care of it."

"She'll need a translator. She reads lips, but her speech...it's not good."

She nodded. "Okay."

Grissom leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "And then there's Sara. I wouldn't let her come here. I didn't want her to see...this. But if you could find it in yourself to give her a message, tell her..." He hesitated. "Tell her I'm sorry."

Catherine watched him for another second before glancing away. "Sure. Anything else?"

He stood up and walked over to her. "Catherine. Thank you."

"This isn't the end, Gil." She reached through the bars and put a hand on his arm. "It can't end like this."

Grissom put his hand over hers. "'In my end is my beginning.' T.S. Eliot."

* * *

Sara let herself into Grissom's house with her key. It was quiet and cold; he'd left the air conditioner on high. Mindful of his utility bill, she raised the thermometer. For a half hour, she moved about his home, washing the few dishes in his sink, wiping down his counters, sorting his mail into neat stacks and even going so far as to drop a few crickets into his spider's terrain. If he wouldn't let her be there for him, she'd be here for him, doing what she could.

Every now and then, it all hit her, though, and she'd have to stop and sit down in order to catch her breath.

Despite Brass stepping in and trying to have them removed, Grissom had been led away in handcuffs. When she'd tried to go with him, she'd come up against a very familiar wall. She had no idea if it was temporary, but he'd shut her out. Told her to go, told he'd be fine without her.

Why was there so much pain in their relationship?

She wasn't even ready to deal with the long-term consequences of what had happened in the interrogation room. It was too much for her to comprehend, that she might be in any way responsible for an undignified end to his very dignified career. She couldn't imagine the lab without Grissom. If they couldn't find their way back to each other, and he was fired...she'd lose him entirely.

Sara went into his bedroom with the intention of making his bed and straightening up. But the fatigue of the past day and a half caught up with her, and she wound up lying down with the intention of only closing her eyes for a few seconds. But his scent on the sheets relaxed her. She fell asleep within moments.

Years of catching cat naps in the break room had made her a very light sleeper. The knocking on Grissom's front door wasn't heavy, but it was enough to wake her from a solid sleep. Rolling out of his bed, she rubbed her eyes and made her way to the front of the house.

If she'd had any clue who would be on the other side, she would have at least taken the time to comb her hair.

The woman was probably in her seventies, but remarkably well-preserved. Her hair was flawless silver and cut fashionably short. But it was her eyes that identified her beyond a shadow of a doubt. Sara knew those eyes.

As she stood there, looking at this woman for the first time ever, she was suddenly angry at him. There were so many things they'd shared when they became lovers, but this was one part of his life that he'd consistently held back from her, without any real explanation. So all she knew about this woman was that her name was Lydia, she was deaf, she lived in southern California, and fifty years ago, she'd given birth to the man Sara loved.

This wasn't how she was supposed to meet Grissom's mother.

* * *

"Docket number 8730021, the People versus Gilbert Grissom. One count of aggravated assault in the second degree."

The judge peered out at his courtroom from behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Mr. Brady," he addressed Grissom's lawyer. "How does your client plead?"

Grissom's reply was grim. "Not guilty, Your Honor."

The assistant district attorney looked uncomfortable. It was understandable; he had the dubious honor of prosecuting a renowned criminalist. "The People perceive no flight risk, Your Honor. We're satisfied to release him on his own recognizance."

"I'm willing to play nice if you are." The judge banged his gavel. "Next case."

The ADA turned to Grissom and his attorney, Joseph Brady. "Let's not drag this out. Two years, minimum security. Eligible for parole in six months. Trust me…my boss only cares about this case because he can't just make it go away.

"I'm sure that deal would be a blessing to anyone else, but my client's not just any Joe off the streets. Besides…we contend that Mr. Grissom isn't responsible for this incident." Brady pulled out a thick brief. "He was clearly provoked."

"Provocation?" The ADA opened the motion. "You're contending that breaking a man's nose is justified if he called your girlfriend a slut?"

Brady smiled flatly. "I think you'll find that the so-called victim has an assault charge of his own on record. If he can plead provocation, so can we."

"I'm aware of all the players and their history," the other lawyer shot back. "But the DA's office cannot appear to play favorites with any member of law enforcement. Even our scientists."

"Mr. Grissom just wants his day in court."

The ADA shrugged and stuck the motion into his briefcase. "Fine. I mean, he's already lost his job."

"Actually…" Brady pulled out another motion.

"Now that's out of my purview. Yours, too. That's a department policy that is, as far as I know, absolute."

Grissom, who had up until that point been listening with quiet detachment, spoke up. "Several years ago, a CSI was arrested for drunk and disorderly after a boxing match at the MGM Grand. He was suspended without pay for three months, but not fired."

"Assault is different."

"We'll see," Brady said with finality. As they walked away, he added, "You should know better than anyone what an asset my client is to your office." Once they were out of earshot, Grissom's lawyer slapped a hand on his back. "I went to law school with that guy. He can't spell _mens rea_, much less prove it. Given the quality of our witness list…there's no way you're not walking on this. With your job."

All Grissom did was nod. Suddenly, he needed to see Sara.

* * *

After a few moments had passed, Lydia Grissom smiled at the woman who had answered her son's door. She lifted one hand. Her slender fingers spelled out a single word.

Sara didn't know much ASL, but she knew the letters of her own name.

She nodded, and spoke as she signed it back. "I'm Sara." Blinking out of her reverie, she stepped back. "Come in. Please."

Mothers always seemed to have a natural instinct regarding their children's homes. The first thing Lydia did was locate Grissom's phone and the message pad that sat next to it. With a pen from her handbag, she wrote something down and handed it to Sara.

_Do you sign?_

She had to shake her head. "No. I'm sorry."

Lydia gestured for the pad again. _Don't be. We'll do this the old way. _She held it up and Sara smiled as she wrote some more. _I am so glad to finally meet you._

"Me, too." Sara bit her lip. "He has your eyes."

Grissom's mother nodded happily. _Where is he? He's not answering his phone._

She blinked. Of course she wouldn't know yet. But how could she be expected to relay this information to a woman she'd known for a matter of minutes?

"He's been detained," Sara hedged, making sure she spoke each word precisely. "Can I get you something to drink?"

_Tea_, Lydia wrote. _Thank you._

Sara took her time filling the kettle and setting it on the burner. When she came back into the living room, Grissom's mother was waiting for her with a long message on the note pad.

_There are many things I want to say to you. I hope our language barrier won't keep you from understanding me. When a mother sees her son in love, she gains as much as she loses. I've seen him spell your name so many times over so many years that I sometimes can't remember a time when he didn't love you. I'm overjoyed that you are here. The last time we spoke of you, he was hurting._

Guilt was even harder to bear when the person inflicting it wasn't aware of what they were doing. Sara swallowed heavily.

Her silence prompted Lydia to reach into her handbag again. This time, she produced her wallet and opened it to reveal several plastic-covered pictures. She offered them to Sara.

_Baby pictures_, she wrote when Sara looked puzzled. _Every mother's right._

Sara gently withdrew the first picture from its sleeve. There, in black and white, was a newborn Gil Grissom, his tiny face scrunched up, as if to purposely thwart the efforts of the nursery's photographer.

She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back her laughter.

_He's never liked having his picture taken_, Lydia wrote.

"We have that in common," Sara said softly.

The next picture was of a cherubic four year-old digging in the sand at the beach and looking none too pleased about having the moment caught on film. After that, she saw a gangly twelve year-old with an unruly mess of black curls holding up an award plaque and regarding the camera with extreme apathy and faint annoyance. She flipped through more of Grissom's life in two minutes than he'd shared with her in nine years.

The final picture she recognized immediately. Because she was in it with him. On one of their first official dates, he'd taken her an amusement park. In a moment of wild spontaneity born from no longer having to fight to hide their emotions, they'd had fun with the photo booth. This picture was one of the first on the strip; the later pictures would not have been suitable for a mother's eyes. Sara looked up with surprise.

_I didn't leave him alone until he sent this to me. A woman who makes my son smile for the camera is part of my family._

It had been a very long time since a mother had wiped tears off of Sara's cheeks.

The kettle whistled and Sara reluctantly stood. On her way into the kitchen, she grabbed her bag. Once she had the tea steeping, she reached into her bag and pulled out the tinfoil package.

She dumped the contents into the sink and turned on the disposal.

* * *

Lydia stayed for tea, but after awhile, the labor involved in having even the most simple of conversations got to be too much. After promising to have Grissom call her as soon as possible, Sara called her a cab, and she headed back to her hotel.

Sara sat curled up on his couch with a second cup of tea until she heard his key in the lock.

He needed a shower, something to eat, and a lot of sleep, but all of that was forgotten as they caught sight of each other across the dimly lit room.

She could see the infant, the toddler, the young man still somewhere in him. She loved all of them, the parts as much as their sum.

They met in the middle of the room, but said nothing for a long time. Finally, when it seemed like the silence would go on forever, he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Sara shook her head. "In the morning," she whispered. "Not now."

He moved forward and lowered his forehead to hers. Their fingers entwined in the space between them. "I need you, Sara."

She closed her eyes, hating her own pragmatism. "I stopped wearing the patch."

Grissom brought their hands up and left her arms around his neck, wrapping his own around her waist. His lips delicately probed hers until she moaned and gave in to the kiss.

What was one more risk in a relationship built on taking them?

* * *

To Be Continued 


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for all the kind reviews!

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

It started as a rumor, whispered down the hallways, behind cupped hands and into eager ears. Then the graveyard shift started, and Grissom was nowhere to be found. The rumor was suddenly a frightening possibility.

Ecklie was waiting in Grissom's office when Nick, Warrick and Greg entered for assignments. Several confused glances were exchanged.

"Ecklie," Nick took it upon himself to acknowledge the man. "How's it going?"

"Well, the answer to that question is why I'm here." Sitting on Grissom's desk, Ecklie crossed his arms with a sigh. "It's not going well, gentlemen, and here's why. Supervisor Grissom has been arrested for assault. I don't think I need to tell any of you..." He glanced at Nick specifically. "...what that means. For the time being, Catherine will take over the shift. She called to say she'd be a little late." He checked his watch. "Sidle, too, apparently." Looking up at the men, Ecklie paused. "Any questions?"

There were hundreds, but Ecklie didn't have the answers they needed.

Nick cleared his throat. "Assignments?"

Ecklie handed them around on his way out the door. He glanced back at them one more time, but rather than look triumphant, he just looked stressed. "I don't take this loss lightly. The whole lab will be affected, but right now is a time for discretion. Tongues are already wagging enough. I'd like to keep the details with those who need to know."

"We got it," Warrick said with finality.

When Ecklie was gone, Greg let out a very loud and very sudden, "Holy shit!"

"How can he be fired?" Nick was dumbfounded. "Grissom got fired? Grissom assaulted someone?"

"He must have had a good reason."

"It's not conceivable...is it? It's not Grissom!"

Warrick pulled at his chin and blew out a breath. "Nick, you ever been with Gris on a case dealing with kids?"

"Creeps who mess with kids get to everyone," he countered. "But he's never...done something about it."

"I'm just saying..." Warrick raised his shoulders. "...we got a new coffee pot a few years ago because Grissom knocked the old one out of Ecklie's hands."

Greg refrained from adding that he'd once had the entire contents of his counter wiped to the ground by their boss. Instead, he punctuated the discussion with another colorful curse.

"That's really not helping, Greg."

"It's pretty much all I've got," he informed Nick.

Warrick held up a hand. "Look, there's not a whole lot we can do about this. Especially not right now. So let's just do our jobs." He paused. "It's what he'd want."

Nick's fist tightened around the paper in his hand for a few seconds, before he relaxed his fingers. "Yeah. He would."

"Now, my only question is..." Warrick frowned. "Where the hell is Sara?"

* * *

"Why don't you like having your picture taken?"

Grissom opened his eyes. Up until then, the only sound in the bathroom had been the gentle lap of water breaking against their bodies. Leaning back against Sara's soft chest, he had to crane his neck to see her. "The Amish have an aversion to photography because they believe photographs violate the Biblical commandment, 'thou shall not make unto thyself a graven image'."

"Baby, you're not Amish. If you were, you'd be in deep trouble for the last forty-five minutes alone." The corners of his lips turned up, but she couldn't see his smirk. She dipped a sponge into the bath and squeezed the water down his chest. "You're extremely photogenic, you know."

The water was warm, but being surrounded by Sara's long limbs was far more relaxing. Enough so that without any internal turmoil, he let his last remaining walls come tumbling down.

"I've never had any great desire to immortalize myself. I always thought that if I was remembered at all, it would be enough to be remembered for whatever knowledge I passed on, not for what I looked like on my tenth birthday."

Sara's lips touched the wet hair at his temple. "Is that why we've never talked about children?"

"Maybe," he admitted. There was a pause. "Are we talking about them now?"

"We don't have to. And it's unlikely that we'll have to in the future, either." She set the sponge aside and ran her hands down the sinewy length of his arms. "I'm just glad your mother doesn't feel the same about pictures."

Grissom frowned. "My mother?"

"She came by earlier." Her fingers traced patterns on his slick skin. "We talked. Sort of."

He was surprised at how much he wasn't surprised. The meeting of the two women in his life was meant to be. When he hadn't made it happen, they'd found a way on their own. "I should have introduced you years ago."

"Yes," she agreed easily. "Then again, you've never met my mother, either."

Another few minutes passed in mild silence. "I'm not sorry for hitting him, Sara."

He could feel her heart pound faster. "We were going to talk about this in the morning," she reminded him.

"I'm not sorry for hitting him," Grissom tried again. "But I am sorry that doing so was the only way I could think to react at the time. I'm sorry that I wasn't smarter."

There was a catch in Sara's voice. "I have never had anyone defend my honor." She paused. "Still…the consequences…they're too much."

"Honey…"

He could feel her shaking her head. "No. I feel like I caused this. I didn't listen to you and I went into that room with him. I wanted him to react to me."

"You're not responsible for how I reacted to his reaction."

"Maybe just a little," she whispered. Grissom sat up and twisted around to look at her. As if she felt too exposed, she crossed one arm over her breasts and glanced to the side. "Can we please not do this tonight?" When she finally met his eyes, they pleaded with him. "Reality will be waiting tomorrow. Can tonight just be…us?"

Grissom's answer was to stand and pull her to her feet. They made an honest, but distracted attempt at drying off before they fell back into the rumpled sheets.

She moved beneath him, above him, around him with unbridled hunger. There were tears in her eyes when she met ecstasy. He touched his lips to her dark lashes, and gave himself over to the same rapture.

He was half-asleep when she murmured, "I can't lose you again."

Reassurances were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, they both heard the faint sound of her phone ringing from the front of the house.

Sara lifted her head from his chest and squinted through the dark at his alarm clock. "Oh my god! It's eleven-thirty! I'm late!"

Grissom watched her dart about the room, putting on items of clothing even as she gathered more. When she sat down on the bed to tug on her shoes, he pulled her back into his arms. Rather than protest, Sara relaxed against him.

"Come back when you get off," he said into her damp hair.

"Only if I can get off when I come back."

Grissom gave her the prudish look that never ceased to delight her, and for a moment, everything else melted away, and they could just be lovers parting ways with a kiss and some innuendo. It was with great reluctance that he eventually let her get up and go.

A minute after he heard the front door shut, he climbed out of bed and went over to his closet. The Everly Brothers album was right where he'd shoved it during his ultimately fruitless attempt to wipe Sara out of his house.

He brought it out to the living room and slipped it back into his collection.

* * *

She arrived at the lab a few minutes before midnight and found Warrick waiting for her in the break room. "Slept in?" he asked with significant look.

"Yeah," she replied as she reached for the coffee pot and a clean mug. "Are we together tonight?"

"We are. Ecklie's put me on the Lara Monroe case." Warrick paused. "Sara, you do know…right?"

Adding a drop of cream, she nodded evenly. "I'm aware. He'll be glad that it's you taking his place."

"Is this gonna be weird for you?"

"If it is…I'll deal with it." Sara raised the mug to her lips. "Have you been brought up to speed?"

He picked up a file from the table. "I've been reading up while I waited for you to drag your butt out of bed. You like this Walker guy for it?"

"We do. We're just waiting for the DA to give us the movements from his ankle monitor. If he was there, we've got him." She stopped when she noticed the amused look on his face. "What?"

"Nothing. I just can't believe I didn't notice until now..." Warrick closed up the file. "…that you're part of a 'we'." He stood up and walked to the door. "By the way, your shirt's buttoned up wrong."

Warrick started down the hall, smiling when he heard her utter a loud curse.

* * *

Brass found them in the AV lab a few hours later, going over the meager video surveillance from the parking lot camera at their victim's apartment. The images were black and white and grainy to the point of incomprehensibility. It was a long shot, but one they were willing to take.

He stuck his head into the room and addressed Sara. "So…do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?"

She glanced at Warrick. "Just tell us what you've got, Jim."

"We just finished up some very long interviews with your victim's nearest and dearest." Brass came into the room, pulled a chair over and sat down. "Lara Monroe might have been rich, but she wasn't…selective." He paused. "Her friends say she had thing for picking up men in bars. The nastier, the better. They say she'd been doing it since high school. And when we showed them some pictures, they picked him out as one of her conquests."

Sara blinked. "JJ Walker said she liked to walk on the wild side…he was telling the truth?"

Brass shrugged. "How long could that print have been there before the other night?"

"Indefinitely," Warrick answered. "Was that the really bad news?"

"'Fraid not. The DA got JJ's movements from the night of the murder." He gave Sara an apologetic look. "He went to a movie and a liquor store and back home. He was nowhere near her apartment."

Rubbing the suddenly sore back of her neck, Sara thought for a second. "Is there any way he could have removed the monitor? Had someone else wear it for him?"

"We wouldn't put them on people if it was as easy as that, Sara." Brass stood. "He's not our guy. But hey…we've still got him for assaulting you. If the DA pleads him out on that, maybe he'll even drop the charges against…" He stopped. "Guess we're back at square one."

Warrick sighed. "I hate square one."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who's been reading my story! More will be coming soon;)

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Grissom visited his mother, armed with flowers and lies.

_I'm sorry I didn't get your calls_, he signed in apology. _I was buried in work._

For a moment, it seemed like she could see straight through him. Some kind of mother's intuition that told them when you were lying about breaking their china or being arrested for assault. He absolutely hated being dishonest. But this wasn't something she needed to be burdened with. At fifty years old, he was in the middle of his first major screw-up. He wasn't a boy anymore. He could do this without his mommy.

_Next time, find a minute to make a simple call, so I won't worry._ Lydia smiled. _I met your Sara. She's lovely, Gil._

_I know. She said you showed her the baby pictures. You couldn't help it, could you?_

She regarded her son with a rueful look. _Until you give me grandchildren, your pictures will stay in my wallet._

Grissom feigned a sudden interest in the roses he'd brought for her. Children were not a subject he wanted to dwell on until the more pressing chaos in his life was resolved. Even though Sara seemed to think the timing wasn't right for anything to have happened the night before, it would be awhile before they could be positive either way.

Again, not something he was eager to discuss with his mother.

_I'm sorry I didn't introduce you to her properly. I'm not very good at combining parts of my life._

Lydia patted her son's arm before signing, _You're learning, and that's what's important. If Sara can forgive you, so can your old mother._

You're not old, Mom.

_And neither are you. So there's no reason for me not to expect those grandchildren._ When Grissom looked away, she tugged at his sleeve to get his attention again. _She makes you happy. Stay with the one who makes you happy. Whatever it takes._

Grissom nodded. He was about to change the subject when he thought of something that would make his mother deliriously happy and end the line of questioning altogether. _Why don't the three of us have dinner tonight? You, me and Sara?_

Lydia signed back with girlish glee. _Perfect!_

An entire evening of lying to his mother. Hopefully Sara's presence would be enough of a distraction for her.

If not...maybe she had more baby pictures hidden away.

* * *

Sara dropped two quarters into the soda machine and pressed the button for regular cola. A can of diet dropped out.

"Perfect," she muttered. "Just fucking perfect."

Greg sauntered in just then. "Oh, no one told you," he said, noting the can in her hand and the look on her face. "The soda guy put the diet in the regular place and, you know, the regular in the diet. Accidentally, I think." He reached into his pocket. "I can buy a diet and give you what I end up with."

"It's okay. At this point, diet soda is the least of my problems." Sara sat down at the table. "But thanks."

He slid into a seat across from her. "This whole place feels kinda...empty without him. It's like a circus minus the ringleader." She popped her drink open, took a sip, but said nothing. "Yeah, sorry. Touchy subject," he apologized.

"You're fine, Greg. I've just got a lot on my mind. And only about fifty percent of it has to do with Grissom."

"Anything you feel like sharing?"

Sara shook her head and took another sip. In mid-swallow, her phone started vibrating. Yanking it from her belt, she checked the LCD screen. It was Grissom.

"Sidle," she answered as nonchalantly as possible.

"How would you feel about having dinner tonight?"

She glanced at Greg. "That sounds fine. When?"

"I'll pick you up at eight." Grissom paused. "Did I mention that my mother will joining us?"

"No, but that's okay, too." Sara switched the phone to her other ear. "Listen...there's been some...developments in the Lara Monroe case."

He was quiet for a moment. "The data from the ankle monitor?"

"Gave him a rock-solid alibi," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry."

"You can't apologize for the evidence. The evidence..."

"I know. I just wanted us to be right about him." Suddenly, she remembered that she wasn't alone. "Um...I should get going. Warrick's on the case now. We have a mountain of evidence to go over. A small mountain. Maybe more like a hill." When Grissom said nothing, she frowned. "What is it?"

"I should be there. Doing my job." She heard something break; the noise made her wince. "Doing something."

Sara glanced at Greg who was very studiously trying to bury his nose in the magazine he'd brought in with him. She smiled as a thought came to her. "Well, if Mohammad can't come to our hill...the hill's just going to have to go to him." She stood up. "We'll be there in half an hour. Put on coffee."

* * *

"There's nothing here," Warrick announced several hours later. He pushed back from the table with an exasperated sigh. "The clock's ticking, and we're out of leads."

Grissom couldn't argue; it was the plain and simple truth. Everything relating to Lara Monroe's murder and the rapes that preceded it was strewn across his dining room table. But it didn't matter that three criminalists were on the case if there was nothing there to find.

Sara, on the other hand, wasn't so easily discouraged. "What about the partial shoe print that we lifted?"

"Adidas." Warrick produced the proper report and plopped it in front of her. "No way to gage size, and the tread is a common pattern."

"Maybe we need to go back to the scene," she suggested. "Look at it with fresh eyes."

"Catherine's mantra," Warrick noted. He looked at Grissom, as if for permission. "I haven't even seen the scene. Just Sara's photos."

Grissom tapped his pen against the autopsy reports. "It's your case now, Warrick," he reminded the younger man. "Perhaps you'll find something we overlooked."

Standing, Warrick pulled on his jacket. "Doubt that's possible." He started for the door. "I'll be in touch."

It was a few seconds after the front door closed before Sara stood. "Well, I should get going, too, I guess. I have a few other open cases and I..." She stopped as he leveled her with a serious look.

"Does Warrick know?" When Sara lowered her lashes, he nodded. "I thought so. He had one eye on us whenever we were within five feet of each other."

"It bothers you?" she asked softly.

"I'm still adjusting to Catherine figuring it out." Grissom reached across the table; their fingers met. Entwined. "But if it had to be anyone else, I'm glad it's Warrick."

Sara delicately cleared her throat. "Nick, too." He blinked and she lifted her shoulders. "Hey, you trained them. Don't be surprised when they pick up on things."

Grissom smiled after a second. "That much is true." His smile faltered. "Greg?"

"Blissfully clueless." She frowned. "I think." A moment passed. "Is there still an 'us' to hide?"

"You have to ask that after last night?"

"Last night...was incredible. But was it permanent?" Sara whispered the question. "Does it mean that you forgive me?"

The door bell answered for him. Grissom sighed, untangled his fingers from hers and went to answer it.

"Can I help you?" he asked the man who stood on the stoop.

"I'm looking for Sara Sidle," the man said. "I was told she might be here." Sara came up behind Grissom and gently touched his back to move him aside. Upon seeing her, the man asked, "Sara Sidle?"

"Yes?"

He held out an envelope. "You've been served." Nodding, he turned and left.

Sara opened the letter with a fair amount of apprehension. After reading it over, wariness turned to dread. She looked up and met Grissom's eyes. "I've been subpoenaed to appear as a witness for the prosecution."

"Against JJ Walker?"

She shook her head. "Against you."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who hangs on through the angst, waiting for things to get fluffier. This one's for you;)

* * *

All I Have to Do 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"I'm sorry, Gil." Brady glanced between his client and the woman who'd accompanied him to his office. "It's valid." 

"You said the ADA was a pushover," Grissom thundered. He slid Sara's subpoena across his lawyer's desk. "Apparently, he has at least a few teeth."

"It's a low blow," Brady admitted. "But she was a witness. And they know that threatening to put her on the stand will rattle you. Maybe enough for you to take a plea." One look at Grissom's reaction to this, and he added, "I know. That's not an option."

Sara shook her head vehemently. "I won't testify against him. I can't."

"You don't really have a choice," the lawyer informed her. "They'll treat you as a hostile witness if they have to. Once you're under oath...well, you know."

Grissom looked at Sara as he asked, "There's absolutely nothing we can do about this?"

"Legally, there's not much." He leaned back in his big, leather chair and folded his hands behind his head. "Of course, we wouldn't even be having this discussion if you two were married."

Realization hit all three of them at the exact same moment.

His lawyer was first to put voice to the idea. "Of course. Spousal privilege."

"A wife can't be compelled to testify against her husband," Grissom echoed.

"Early lawmakers recognized that marriage united two people as one. And if you have the right against self-incrimination, you also have the right not to be incriminated by your other half." Brady blew out a breath. "Wait, before we get too excited and book the wedding chapel, let's remember that the so-called crime took place before you were spouses. Privilege is going to be a tricky sell. I can't think of any precedence for it off the top of my head."

He thought for a second. "But you know...I wouldn't mind blazing the trail. As long as the two of you are willing to take the plunge. It'd have to be soon. The quicker I can get my motion in and work my magic with the judge, the sooner we'll be one step closer to putting this whole thing behind you both."

Sara only half heard what he was saying. Blood was rushing to her face so fast that she was sure her skin was on fire. Marrying Grissom. It was everything she wanted.

It scared her to death.

Wetting her lips, she sneaked a glance at him, only to find that he was already staring at her. As Brady continued to ramble on, Grissom reached for her hand. "This isn't the proposal I had in mind."

Her stomach dropped a few inches. "You had a proposal planned?"

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "It was more of a fantasy."

"I've never thought about it." At his hurt look, she corrected herself. "What am I saying? Of course I've thought about it. I've just never really considered it. I always thought...I'll be lucky and happy and content...if I can just be with him." Sara paused. "A few days ago, we were apart. And now...we're in your lawyer's office having a surreally serious conversation about getting married. Is this too much, too fast? I don't know."

"Honey, if it's not what you want, we'll stop this right now."

Sara looked down at their hands. "It's what I want. What I don't want is for you to marry me just because it's convenient. My parents married because they had to, and look how that ended up. When you ask me to marry you..." She met his eyes. "...I want it to be because you can't imagine the rest of your life without me."

Grissom waited exactly five seconds. "Sara, will you marry me?"

* * *

"She said yes, I assume." Catherine drained her screwdriver. "Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?" She poured herself some more orange juice; the vodka was long gone. "So, when is this all going down? Do I need to pull out a dress, or will jeans be okay?" 

There was a pause on the other end. "Catherine, if you're going to be like this, I'd rather you not be there at all."

Guilt cut through her after-work cocktail buzz. "Gil...just do something for me. Stop and think about this for a minute. In fifty years, you haven't so much as been engaged. You've had relationships that could've gone there, but you didn't let them. Something held you back. And now...what? You're blowing off your common sense? I just want to make sure you're looking before you leap. Divorces are a pain in the ass, trust me."

"I've looked. That's all I've been doing for years." Grissom paused again. "I want to leap, Catherine. I'm ready."

Something in the way he said this touched her. Still, she couldn't simply given in. "With her? You're sure? Because Joanna really liked..."

He cut her off. "Your gift to me...to both of us...can be as simple as dropping the animosity you have towards her."

Catherine scowled. "A flatware set would cost me less." She thought for a moment, then sighed. "You know I'll be there. Just tell me where and when."

They hung up as soon as he gave her the information; he had a lot of things to take care of in a very short amount of time. Catherine stared at the phone for a long while afterwards. Grissom was going to marry Sara.

She wasn't in love with the man. So why did that hurt?

He would be a good husband. Forgetful, sure. Unconventional, definitely. But attentive. Considerate. Patient. Compromising. Romantic in his own, nerdy way. He would try his hardest.

He would put everything into his marriage that Eddie had never even tried to put into theirs.

Sara had sure as hell better appreciate what she was getting.

Catherine picked the phone back up and dialed a familiar number. "Warrick," she said when the call was answered. "What are you doing tonight?"

* * *

Sara didn't need to go through her closet to know that she had absolutely nothing appropriate for the occasion. She didn't have much in the way of clothes to wear as a guest at one of these things, let alone anything she could wear as the bride. White was not a featured color in her wardrobe. 

And that was how Sara found herself shopping on her wedding day.

Fortunately it was the right season for light, semi-formal dresses. She had four hangers in her hand and was only steps away from the dressing rooms when it all hit her.

She was going to marry Grissom.

The clerk, a pretty girl, ran over to her as she sank down to the floor. "Ma'am, are you all right!"

"I'm fine," Sara assured her between deep breaths. "I just...I'm shopping for my wedding dress."

The girl's face went from concerned to delighted. "Congratulations! When's the big day?"

"Today. Tonight."

"Oh! Well...then we'd better find the right one as soon as possible!" The girl helped Sara to her feet and held out her hand for her choices. "May I?" After examining the four dresses, the girl held up one. "Try this first."

She guided Sara to a dressing room and left her with the garment. As Sara shed her jeans and top, the girl started chatting. "This is the first time I've helped someone pick out their wedding dress. All the other girls say it happens a lot since we're so close to the Strip, but I've only been here for a few months. Weddings..." She sighed. "Is there anything more romantic? How did you meet your fiancé?"

Sara pulled the dress over her head. "We work together."

"Office romance," the girl sighed again. "So how long have you known that he was the one?"

"I've always known." She paused with her hands around her back, working the zipper up. It was the truth. And for a moment, the butterflies in her stomach settled down.

Maybe it didn't matter that this was happening in order to create a legal technicality. The man she loved had asked her to marry him. If he didn't have doubts, why should she?

Maybe all of her dreams could come true.

Blinking, Sara finished with the zipper and looked at her reflection. The dress was white cotton with spaghetti straps and a bodice that hugged her to the waist. The skirt was full and short, ending just at her knees. The hem at the bottom was embroidered with a pattern of small, blue flowers. It was simple and sweet. But was it her?

"Come on out," the girl said cheerfully. "You always need a second opinion."

Reluctantly, Sara stepped back out into the store. "I don't know," she confessed. "It's very...feminine."

"Did you want to get married in something masculine?" The clerk stepped towards her. "Before you decide, let me show you something." She came up behind Sara and gathered her hair up and twisted it around, holding it in place. "With some tendrils and some flowers...what do you think?"

"I think..." Sara looked at herself from all angles in the three-way mirror. It wasn't her usual style. But then...she didn't have a usual style for getting married. So, what was to say white cotton and baby blue flowers wasn't it? "I think I found my wedding dress."

* * *

Greg's initial reaction to Nick's phone call informing him that Grissom and Sara would be getting married that night was one of righteous fury. How could they have been in a relationship for so long without anyone knowing anything about it! Sara was supposed to be his friend; she hadn't trusted him with such important news? 

Once he settled down and thought about it, he realized that there were a million clues he'd never bothered to put together. If he had, he would have seen it coming. So really, he had no one to blame but himself.

That didn't stop him from pouting as he yanked his court suit out of his closet and started getting ready.

Nick had offered to give him a ride to the chapel. When he arrived, he'd already picked up Warrick who had nabbed shotgun, putting Greg in the backseat. But that was nothing new.

"I don't have a present for them," he announced as soon as he was buckled in. "I take it you guys don't either?"

"Silver picture frame," Nick said as he pulled out into traffic. "I bought it for my college buddy's wedding that never happened."

Warrick adjusted the AC. "Tina and I got two identical fruit bowls from her great aunt and her cousin. We had to keep one, but the other was never taken out of the box."

Greg stewed over this for a moment. "Hey, Nick, can I put my name on..."

"Nope."

He sunk back into his seat and crossed his arms. "Fine. I'll just get something later. It's not like we had much notice, right? I mean, who even knew they were together?"

"I did."

"I did."

"Dammit!"

* * *

It was frightening how easily a wedding could be put together, even on extreme short notice.

In fact, if not for the twenty phone calls he'd made trying to get an ASL interpreter, the entire affair could have been planned in under two hours. The chapel had an opening at precisely eight. They would take care of the legal paperwork before the ceremony, so all he and Sara would have to do afterwards would be to sign on the dotted lines. He'd stopped at a florist and bought two white roses. He'd made another, more expensive purchase at Tiffany's. And he'd set up a hotel reservation for their wedding night. They'd be spending their honeymoon in "Paris."

His mother was thrilled to the point where he'd feared she might actually faint at the news. He hadn't realized until that moment how much she wanted to see him get married. Besides Catherine, the only other people he'd invited had been Brass (who had taken the news surprisingly well, with a simple "Called that one years ago" snorted into the phone) and his lawyer. It wouldn't hurt to have him as a witness.

Everything was taken care of. Sara would be arriving at the chapel momentarily. And not too long after that...the ceremony would begin.

Now, all he had to do was make his heart stop beating so fast.

Fortunately just then, Nick, Warrick and Greg entered the chapel. Their unexpected appearance did, at the very least, stop his heart for a second. As they took their seats in the very front pew, across the aisle from where his mother and his lawyer sat, Warrick nodded, Nick smiled, and Greg pointed at him before making a slashing motion across his throat. Brass came in after that, but instead of taking a seat, he came up to the altar where Grissom was waiting.

"Nice suit," he commented on Grissom's dark blue jacket. "You nervous?"

"No," Grissom replied truthfully. "I'm not."

Catherine arrived a few minutes later and slid into the pew next to where Brass had seated himself. She met Grissom's eyes for a moment before looking away. At least she was there.

And then...the music started. The double doors leading into the chapel opened. Sara appeared, and his breath left him.

* * *

The flowers were real. 

Two white roses that Grissom had given to the chapel coordinator to give to her. Now, she carried one; the other had been tucked into her twisted-up locks. She never would have thought he'd buy into traditions or superstitions, yet he had arranged things as not to see her before the ceremony. It was...so Grissom. Unexpectedly precious.

He was standing at the altar in her favorite suit, the blue one that darkened his eyes into sapphires. And he was smiling.

For the briefest of moments, Sara wondered again if they were doing the right thing for the right reasons. But then she started walking. And with each step, she knew that this was where they were supposed to be. This was the final leg in a journey that had started the moment she'd been introduced to him at the reception following his Berkeley seminar.

There were people in the pews, faces she knew, faces she hadn't expected to see, but her gaze remained steady on him until she reached the end of the aisle. As the chapel's official started talking, out of the corner of her eye she saw an interpreter begin to sign.

"We're gathered here tonight to witness the union of Gilbert Grissom and Sara Sidle. Before they exchange rings, both Gilbert and Sara wish to express their vows in their own words." He nodded at Grissom. "Gilbert?"

He took a moment before he spoke. "Words, especially ones with meaning, have often failed me. I look to poets and philosophers to say what I can never express with any clarity. When I read this poem several years ago, it seemed to put into words everything that I feel when I look at you. So, with my thanks to William Wordsworth, I can share it with you now."

_"She was a Phantom of delight _

_When first she gleamed upon my sight _

_A lovely Apparition, sent _

_To be a moment's ornament._

_I saw her upon nearer view,  
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!  
A Creature not too bright or good _

_For human nature's daily food._

_A Being breathing thoughtful breath,  
A Traveler between life and death;  
The reason firm, the temperate will,  
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill._

_A perfect Woman, nobly planned,  
To warn, to comfort and command,  
And yet, a Spirit still, and bright _

_With something of angelic light."_

Grissom finished with a quiet and simple, "I love you, Sara. I always have."

"Sara." The official gently called out of the trance his words had sent her into. She recognized the moisture on her cheeks as tears; more of them spilled forth when she blinked several times. It was her turn.

"My words are borrowed as well, but they come from a much less...intellectual source." Sara glanced down at the rose in her hand. "There's a song that says something I need you to know. Something that's kept me going, even when it seemed like I should just give up. It's sappy and probably silly, but then...that's how I feel when I'm around you." She smiled. "Don't worry. I won't sing."

_"It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart _

_Without saying a word, you can light up the dark _

_Try as I may I could never explain _

_What I hear when you don't say a thing._

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me _

_There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me _

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall _

_You say it best when you say nothing at all."_

She lifted her gaze to meet his once more. "I know. And I love you, too."

Out in the pews, Brady made a note on a small pad of paper. He returned it to his jacket pocket and sat back to enjoy the rest of the ceremony.

The vows were spoken. The rings were slipped onto trembling fingers. There were no objections, although if they'd looked closely, they might have seen Catherine biting the inside of her cheek when the question was posed.

And then...it was done.

Grissom's lips were warm in their first kiss as husband and wife. Sara gave herself over to the moment, unaware and uncaring of their audience. She was vaguely aware of light applause as they parted. Sara put her hand in his. The diamond on her finger caught the light and shone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's my honor to present Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Grissom."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I know the last chapter got a little...okay, hell, a lot...fluffy, so thanks to everyone for sticking with me through it;) I promise, the story is not over yet.

I am moving from Florida to California at the end of the week, so my internet access will be pretty much nil for the length of the move. I'll be writing, but I probably won't be updating for awhile. Just FYI. Oh, and if you're going to YTDAW's convention in Las Vegas, I'll wave in your general direction when I get onto I-15;)

* * *

All I Have to Do 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

The news of their wedding hit the crime lab like a shock wave. No one bothered with whispers or cupped hands; it was out in the open and fair game gossip for the people who had watched their dance day after day, year after year. 

"I saw him put his hand on her lower back a few months ago," Archie told Judy. "I thought he was just leading her out of the room, but now...who knows? It could have been some secret signal to meet him somewhere for hot, sweaty..."

"You ever notice how close they stand? I mean, I'm all for gettin' to know your co-workers, but damn." Bobby shook his head at Hodges. "You ever get that close to me, and you'll find out what a boot feels like up your..."

"Explains why he punched that suspect," Wendy said to her latest DNA minion. "Nothing makes a guy go caveman quicker than thinking he has to protect his woman. Men can be such..."

"I kinda would've liked to have been invited," David told the corpse that was laid out in front of him. "Not that I would've had time to go, with Dr. Robbins still out on vacation." He sighed and picked up his scalpel. "I spend too much time with dead people. No offense."

However, despite the general surprise and commentary that it prompted, there was only one person in the lab who was completely enraged by the news.

"They did what!"

"Does it really shock you that much, Conrad?" Catherine crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands primly over her knee. "You've never seen the puppy-dog looks she always gives him?"

Ecklie scratched his fingers through the hair he had left, figuring he'd probably be losing a few more precious strands over this latest development in the on-going annoyance that was Gil Grissom. "She said it was over and that it wouldn't be a problem from now on. I had no idea she was blowing smoke up my ass."

"Excuse me? What are you talking about?" She pointed a finger at him. "You knew that they were together?"

"Of course I knew. It was turning our lab and the DA's office upside down after that hotshot lawyer caught wind of it."

"Grissom's never said anything to me about that."

He decided to leave his hair alone, and started rubbing his temple. "Oh, he didn't know. She insisted on taking on the role of martyr and ended things between them. Supposedly." Ecklie cursed. "Sleeping together wasn't bad enough? They had to go and get married? Just when I thought we were out of the woods as far as appeals on their cases went. What were they thinking? Were they thinking?"

Catherine took in all the new information and filtered out his ranting. If she was understanding the man correctly, Sara had broken up with Grissom not because she was bored or felt that he was too old...but because being with him had threatened their work. The fact that she hadn't wanted Grissom to know about any of it was telling. Not of her propensity for self-sacrifice, but of her true knowledge of the man's soul. A threat to his work would have been unbearable for him.

She wasn't often plagued with guilt, intense or otherwise, so the wave that washed over her just then was entirely unwelcome.

_I pay for my decision every second of every fucking day; I don't need you yelling at me about things you only half-understand!_

She had only half-understood at the time. Maybe it would have better if it had stayed that way.

* * *

Sara stepped out of the hotel bathroom in the simple, but slinky satin nightgown she'd chosen for their wedding night. Grissom had his back to her; he was busy turning down the covers, stacking the pillows, preparing the bed with a shade more care than he might have if they were just settling down for any other night. 

She lightly cleared her throat to retrieve his attention. When he turned his head, she saw a rapid procession of emotions flash in his eyes. Awe, appreciation, desire...fear.

Blood drained from his face, wiping away every bit of color from his cheeks. He felt for the edge of the bed and sat down without blinking.

"What's wrong?" she asked as calmly as she could. Whatever he was feeling, she would give him a chance to explain it. Before her own fears took over.

"I think...it just hit me." Grissom swallowed. "We actually did it. We got married. I can't believe...we got married."

Something about the way he said that irked her. "Isn't this what you wanted?" She tried to keep her arms from crossing, but it was built-in defense mechanism, perfected over the years for all the times she'd needed to protect herself. "I asked you if we were rushing this, but you were so sure."

"I was. But now..."

Sara cut him off. "This is a hell of a time to have second thoughts." Despite the tight hold she had around herself, she shook a bit as she went on. "But if you are, it's not too late to make this all go away. Annulment, divorce...whatever's easiest. I won't tie you to those vows."

Grissom frowned. "You won't?"

It took everything she had to reply, "I won't. They were just words." She turned to head back into the bathroom and put on something a little more substantial, when she thought better of it and faced him again.

"You know what? Fuck that. I'm not going to slink away from this. They weren't just words to me. They meant something. I'm sorry if you've changed your mind, but you got us into this, Gris. You proposed, you made all the arrangements. If you want to back out now, make sure you know what you're in for. Because I am not letting you off the hook without a fight."

There was a moment's pause. "Thank god," Grissom finally said.

It was Sara's turn to frown in confusion. "I don't understand you sometimes. The look on your face just now...you looked petrified."

"I am," he admitted. "Aren't you?"

She shrugged, another defense mechanism. "Maybe." Her eyes lowered under the weight of the truth. "Yes."

"We did something really big tonight, Sara. It was spontaneous and uncharacteristic and..."

"Wonderfully scary."

Grissom nodded. "I think so, too." He stood up. "I don't regret it. And I'm not taking it back. But I do reserve the right to be a bit overwhelmed. Especially when you come out looking like that."

She stood up a bit straighter. "How's that?"

He gestured to the clingy fabric, the low-cut neckline, the curve of cleavage. "Everything sweet and everything sinful. And everything I never imagined I deserved."

Sara shook her head. "We deserve each other, Gris. For better or for worse, right?"

"I want you to call me by my first name." He reached for her hand, and continued like he'd been thinking these thoughts for a long time. "I want to find a new place for us to live, a place that's not yours or mine, but ours. I want..."

She stopped him with a kiss. "Do you know what I want?"

"God, you smell as good as you look..." Grissom closed his eyes. "What do you want, honey? Name it and it's yours."

Her teeth nipped at his lower lip. "I want my wedding night."

Sara took what she wanted, what he gladly gave to her. There was something different in the way their bodies came together, something that spoke of a new bond, a stronger link, a connection that they'd always sought, but never quite attained before that night.

_He's mine_, she thought when he filled her with steely heat. He thrust once, twice, and she drew him down for a tongue-tangling kiss. _He's mine and I'm his and that's all I need._

When they parted in utter repletion, she glanced over at her lover. Her husband. "Is it just me..." she began, still breathless from his hands, his mouth, his desire. She raised her arm in the air, displaying her wedding ring. "...or do these make this even better?"

His chest rose and fell as he considered his own ring. "I don't know if it's the rings, but for the first time...I don't feel like I'm going to wake up and find that all of this was just a dream."

Sara rolled to her side and draped half of her body over his. "It's not a dream. Dreams are never this good."

Grissom put his arm around her shoulders and drew her even closer. "I've had some fairly vivid ones."

"And just who has starred in them?" she asked, pointedly.

"Jane Fonda."

She pinched the extra bit of body around his waist. "You were right. Fantasies are better kept private." She changed her mind and maneuvered herself to kiss the spot she'd pinched. Sitting on his legs, she looked up the length of his torso. "Anything I can do while I'm down here that might make you forget about Barbarella?"

He lifted his head and gave her a choir-boy smile.

Night never really ended in Las Vegas. For once, Sara was glad for that.

* * *

"Do you think I ever stood a chance?" 

Nick lifted his head up from the microscope, away from the trilobal fibers found on their victim's sweater. He looked over at Greg. The youngest CSI on their team was slouched on the stool next to his, one foot hooked over the lowest rung, the other dangling free. He was playing with a loose thread on his lab coat.

"I assume you mean with the new Mrs. Grissom?"

Greg didn't have to confirm this. "I asked her out once." He frowned. "She kind of didn't realize it."

"Not a good sign, buddy." He held out his hand. "Give me the reference slide."

His partner was too far into his own thoughts to think about the case. "I just don't get it. What is it about Grissom? He can be downright mean to her!"

"I don't think it's him being mean. Just…Grissom." Nick cleared his throat. "Slide, Greg."

"What would you call it then?"

He sighed. So much for working. "Look, there are people who are just meant to be with other people. It's like, they can function without that other person, but they can't thrive. That's what they are to each other. Whole, even when they're apart, but not really alive." He paused. "That wasn't supposed to rhyme."

Greg yanked at the thread. "There's another way to look at that. Dangerous co-dependence." The thread was no match for his mood; it gave without much resistance. "He just better treat her like a princess. Or I'll swoop in and make my move."

"Sure. The slide, or it's your ass."

He handed it over, a strange look on his face. "Do you think they're doing it right now?"

"Out!" Nick roared, pointing to the door. "I swear to God, Greg, get out of here." As Greg retreated, Nick cursed sharply.

That was a mental image that was just never going to go away.

* * *

Joseph Brady truly believed that the early bird got the worm. 

In the case of his latest client, the "worm" was a ten a.m. meeting in Judge Clarence O'Neil's chambers to decide the motion he'd submitted to the DA's office at exactly eight a.m.

Leaving the ADA with only two hours to prepare was just a bonus.

"Your Honor, spousal privilege only extends to witnesses who were married to defendants at the time the crime was committed." The ADA shot Brady a withering look. "This is a blatant attempt on the defense's part to bend the rules and prevent testimony that will be damaging to their case."

The judge, bless his soul, was not impressed. "Yes, Mr. Leery, that's generally what defense attorneys are paid to do." He glanced at Brady. "I assume you have an argument of your own?"

"Yes, Your Honor. _Harper vs. California_ stated that a gay man whose lover was accused of committing murder could not be compelled to testify against him. However, as we all know, homosexual marriages are not allowed in America. Still, that California judge felt the relationship was real enough to allow for spousal privilege. At the time of the alleged crime, my client had already been in a relationship with Ms. Sidle for a year."

"In the Harper case, the gay couple in question had been partners for over fifteen years," the ADA shot back, proving that he'd done his homework in those two hours.

"There's something to be said for longevity and legality," the judge mused. "I'm denying your motion, Mr. Brady. The prosecution can put Ms. Sidle on their witness list."

Losing, in a word, sucked. And he rarely settled for it without a fight. "Your Honor…" Brady protested.

Judge O'Neil held up his hand. "I'm not about to clear the way for every girl who shacked up with a banger for a week to claim she doesn't have to testify against him." He pointed at the ADA. "But here's the catch. If the State asks permission to treat Ms. Sidle as a hostile witness, I can tell you right now, I'm going to turn them down flat."

The ADA blinked. "But, sir…"

"You put her up there; you deal with whatever answers she gives." He smiled evenly. "It's a gamble, Mr. Leery. Make sure you know what you're doing before you place your bet."

As they left the judge's chambers, both of their spirits a bit deflated, the ADA made another offer. "One year. He does three months. Then probation for another year."

Brady shook his head. "Any time behind bars, and there's no deal."

"You're backing us into a corner. How are we supposed to appear impartial if we let him walk on this?"

"Don't ask me to do your job for you. I'm just telling you…I'm not letting a man I respect spend a single night in jail." Brady started down the hall, talking over his shoulder. "He's one of the good guys, Jason. It's rare that I get to represent one. I'm not about to let him down."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: In case you don't read my other story that I've recently updated, I arrived in L.A. and I'm settling in pretty smoothly. Thanks for the good wishes;) It's good to be back. Enjoy the new chapter! Oh, and once again, I apologize for the horrible page breaks. The document editor does not seem to want to give me the nice line break.

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All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

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Leaving the hotel was hard for both of them. Overnight, it had turned into a comfort zone, where there were no consequences to their actions, and nothing could touch them except pleasure and love.

Grissom drove her back to her apartment. There wasn't anything of hers at his place, and barely anything of his at hers. She supposed this was what engagements were meant for, to have time to meld two separate lives into one. Doing so after the wedding felt like taking a step backwards.

In the parking lot of her complex, he turned the engine off and glanced over at her. After a moment had passed and he hadn't said anything, Sara asked, "What?"

"I'm dropping my wife off at her apartment." He shook his head. "Because I have to go see my lawyer."

She smiled weakly. "Well. You have to admit, it's a unique way to spend a honeymoon."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Sara considered him for a second before unbuckling and leaning across the gearshift to kiss him. Their lips parted a moment later with a soft pop. "Come back as soon as you can. I'll be waiting."

Grissom nodded, his eyelids still heavy from the kiss. Swallowing back the urge to kiss him again, she forced herself to open her door and slide out of the Denali.

She'd just opened her door when she heard him call her name. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he'd covered half the distance between them in a breathless jog.

He answered her puzzled look by bending down and scooping her up into his arms.

"What are you doing!" she protested. "I'm way too heavy!"

"Not even if we were going by the metric system, honey." Grissom nodded his head towards the open door. "Don't you want to be carried over the threshold?"

She squirmed, but he refused to put her down. "It's a stupid tradition that dates back to Roman times when it was thought that if a bride tripped at the threshold to her new home, it would bring bad luck to her…"

He sighed. "Sara, you're getting heavier by the second."

Suspended in the air, with nothing but his arms between her and the ground, Sara stopped fighting against the moment. "Shouldn't we wait until we have a threshold that's ours?"

"Maybe," he conceded. "This can be practice."

Just inside her apartment, Grissom set her down on her feet and she immediately gave his shoulder a light punch. "Next time, we're getting you a back brace. Just in case."

He replied with a light kiss that rapidly turned intense. Forcing themselves apart, they each took a step back, and a moment to calm down.

Grissom reached out and touched her cheek. "Bye, Mrs. Grissom."

She closed her eyes when the warm pressure of his hand moved off. "Please don't stay away long." When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

"I miss you already."

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"What we have to do is focus on the positive." Brady smiled at his client, as if it would make up for what he'd just told him. "If they go ahead and put her on the stand, she doesn't have to work with them. They can try, but her answers will be hers, and the jury will see that. She can do some serious damage to their case."

Grissom steepled his hands together in front of his mouth. "You're not worried about the potential damage to my case anymore?"

"Hey, I've seen your wife testify on other cases. She knows how to work around a good defense attorney. I'm sure she can do the same with a prosecutor."

"She wasn't supposed to have to go through with this. I thought you said that if we got married…"

"Grissom, I was there. You didn't just marry her to keep her off the stand." Brady stood up and came around from behind his desk. "Look, the judge has ruled. I fully expect to get a notice saying that they've retracted their subpoena, and won't be calling on Sara." Anticipating his client's next question, he continued. "But if they go ahead with it, we'll deal with it. Sara won't let you down."

Grissom was quiet for a moment. "I trust her absolutely…but I will not ask her to lie for me. Do you understand that?" He stood and used the extra inch he had over the younger man to look down at him. "Even if it means I lose my job and I go to jail, I won't allow her to compromise herself."

"Does she feel the same way?"

"Sara's sense of right and wrong only has grey areas when it comes to me. So, I'm putting this on you. Don't back her into a corner where she has to choose between her principles and me."

Brady let out a short, barking laugh. "Oh, my colleagues are going to have field day with this. Defense attorney grows a conscience. Who knew?" He went back to his chair and sat down. "Go be with your wife. I've got a lot of billable hours left today."

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Sara had just started dragging a comb through her tangled, freshly-washed locks when she heard the knock at her door. Experience had taught her that nine times out of ten, it wasn't good news waiting for her on the other side. But she found herself padding down the hall in her robe to answer it, for better or for worse.

The moment she saw Catherine, she was convinced that it would be the latter.

Neither woman spoke for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Sara gave in. "Is there something you need?"

Catherine started to say something, but stopped before any actual sounds made it out. After another second, she tried again. "I didn't get a chance to tell you…it was a…nice ceremony. You looked…almost bridal."

"Yeah, white can do that." She folded her arms. "He's not here. If you're looking for him."

"I'm not." Glancing down at the ground, Catherine sighed. "Look, I'm not used to being wrong about…well…people. But there's something about you that I just…have never gotten right. What is that? Why can make sense out of everyone else, but you…I just never can."

"Maybe…" Sara ventured, "…you've never really tried."

"Maybe." She lifted her shoulders. "Or maybe I've never really wanted to. It's always been easier for you to be, for lack of a better phrase, the other woman." With her eyes on Sara's ring, Catherine went on. "But he loves you. And he's my friend. Whatever I've done or said in the past, it's only been to protect him."

"Same here."

Catherine nodded. "I know that now. And yeah, if I'd bothered to ask questions before I went off on you, I might have known back then." She paused. "I definitely wouldn't have tried to set him up with someone else. I guess what I'm trying to say is…"

She stopped. The words just wouldn't come out.

Sara shook her head slightly. "Catherine, I don't need your apology. I'd accept it, but I don't need it. If you have to apologize, though, it should be to him."

A few seconds passed. "Do you think it's possible to be jealous of someone you've never met?"

"Yeah." Sara glanced away. "Every time he would mention the name 'Catherine' in an email, I turned a little greener."

"Hey. At least you didn't have to see his face when he talked about Sara from San Francisco." Catherine hesitated before stepping back. "I should go."

"You could. Or you could come in for tea. Possibly tequila. Whatever works." At the older woman's arched eyebrow, Sara shrugged. "If nothing else, we have him in common."

Catherine conceded with a nod. "That's true enough." She entered the apartment at Sara's gesture. "Although I've never slept with him."

Sara was surprised at the sudden relief that statement brought to her. She closed the door with a smile. "Good to know."

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After leaving his lawyer's office, Grissom took a long drive. He needed the time to clear his head. In a mere 24 hours, his life had gone through the most extreme 180. He'd gone from a life of perpetual bachelorhood, to a future that wouldn't be spent alone. He had Sara, really and truly and forever.

But the threat of the trial still hung over him. He stood to lose everything he'd just gotten. His mistake could cost him his career, his reputation…not to mention precious time with his wife.

So he drove. He drove to shake it off, to let what would be just…be. He drove so that when he returned, there wouldn't be anything on his mind but her.

And it was in driving, that he found his way home.

It wasn't a cookie-cutter two bed, two and a half bath, built in ten minutes and no different from the others on the brand-new block. In fact, there was nothing perfect about the house. Maybe that was its immediate appeal.

The front porch sagged a bit. The shutters were damaged. The lawn was overgrown. The neighborhood was old.

But there was something majestic about it. There was a bay window. There were trees for shade. And at the end of the block, a group of children rode their bikes in lazy circles over the cobblestone street.

And best of all, there was a 'for sale' sign in plain view, with a realtor's number.

Grissom called and made an appointment for the next day.

He missed Catherine by ten minutes, and entered Sara's apartment without knocking. She was in the kitchen, finishing off what looked like a Bloody Mary. When she turned and saw him, her smile paled in comparison to his.

"I take it things went well with the lawyer?"

"Not at all." Grissom covered the distance between them and pulled her against his chest. "In fact, things couldn't have gone worse."

Sara frowned, even as he began kissing her jaw. "Okay. I'm confused." She almost forgot she was, though, when he slipped his hands up under her shirt. "Really…really confused. Gil!" He stopped and looked at her. "What's going on?"

"I'm trying to seduce my wife. And, surprisingly, finding myself unsuccessful at it."

"Are you all right?" His nimble fingers found her bra clasp and made short work of undoing it. She sighed in exasperation. "Talk to me!"

"Do you trust me?"

Sara looked back and forth between his eyes. "You know I do."

"And I trust you. So…we're going to be fine." Grissom lowered his mouth to the nape of her neck. "No matter what."

"I really think I should be scared by this…" Her eyelashes fluttered shut as he cupped her breasts beneath her bra. "…but right now…I can't remember what 'this' is…"

In the bedroom, Grissom held himself up over his wife. "We're going to have it all, honey." He tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her softly. "Even the white picket fence."

Sara put her hand against his heart. "I already have it all."

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To Be Continued


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thank you, everyone, for staying with me through my hiatus, and for leaving wonderfully inspiring reviews of the last chapter. Stay tuned for more;)

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All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Don't go in."

As she attached the back of her earring, Sara glanced over her shoulder at the man in her bed. She smiled at the sight of her husband, looking as rumpled and sex-sated as she had before her shower.

"I have to go in. Enough shit has hit the fan already," she reminded him.

Grissom scratched his slightly overgrown beard. "One more night can't make that much difference."

"Why don't you write me a note? 'Dear Mr. Ecklie. Please excuse my wife from work tonight so we can have more sex than is probably doctor-recommended for either of us'."

"Not a good idea to make him jealous on top of everything else."

Sara picked up her wedding ring from the dresser and slipped it onto her finger, freshly amazed at the sight of a diamond gracing her hand. "You could come with me."

He was quiet for a moment, all joking forgotten. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" She turned around to face him. "They haven't officially fired you. Even if you can't work, there's nothing to say you can't stop by." He looked away, but she persisted. "Come on, baby. That's your lab. Ecklie can sit behind his desk and pretend he rules the roost, but everyone knows…you are the beating heart of that place. It's not right to keep you away from it." Choking on the last few words, Sara glanced down at the carpet.

"Hey. Honey…" He was out of bed and at her side. Taking her face between his hands, Grissom tilted her chin up until their eyes met. "It means that much to you?"

Sara shook her head as much as she could. "It means that much to you."

After a few seconds, Grissom gave her a light kiss. "All right. I'll get ready." On his way to the bathroom, he paused. "I'd imagine there are not all that many men who can honestly say that their wives really and truly know them. How lucky am I to be one of them?"

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"I'm just saying, Mary Ann would have made you work for it. Ginger…you could have her laid before you even ordered dessert."

"No way is that a good thing, Greggo. Ginger was the island bicycle. But Mary Ann only had eyes for the Professor. She was a one-man woman." Nick grinned. "And that's way hotter."

Behind his paper, Warrick considered this, then dismissed it with an obligatory shake of his head. "Congratulations. We've hit an all-time conversation low."

"I think you're both overlooking something." All three CSI's looked at Hodges as he entered the break room. "Mrs. Howell." He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Older women are where it's at, gentlemen." He smirked. "Trust me."

Once he was gone, Greg grabbed Nick's coke and chugged it. "Sorry," he apologized. "Had to wash down some bile."

From where he was sitting, Warrick spotted the couple through the glass wall as they came down the hallway. He said nothing, however. He merely sat back and let the guys continue.

"Ginger looked better in coconut shells," Greg picked the argument back up.

"Mary Ann never hid her legs behind shiny evening gowns," Nick countered.

"Ginger could sing, dance and act!"

"Mary Ann could make a banana crème pie without milk or eggs or flour!"

"You have to admit," Grissom said as he and Sara came into the room and caught the tail end of the discussion. "It's hard to beat a good banana crème pie."

Startled to attention, Nick jumped to his feet. "Gris? Hey! Wow! You're here!

Greg took another swig of Nick's coke. "You're both here. Together." He ignored the puzzled look Sara gave him.

"We were just…"

Grissom held up his hand to ward off the explanation that would have followed. "Nick, I'm not your boss anymore."

The statement was simple, and painfully true. It was the elephant in the room that he'd chosen not to ignore. Not that his decision had made dealing with it any easier.

When no one said anything for a long time, Warrick spoke up. "Show us the rock, Sara. You two left the chapel so fast we barely got a look at it." Almost shyly, she held out her hand and he whistled. "Nice." He gave Grissom a look of approval. "Worthwhile investment?"

Looking at Sara, Grissom nodded. "Infinitely."

"So…what are you doing here?" Nick asked. "Have they stuck you on desk duty?"

"He really wants to ask when all this shit is going to go away, so things can go back to normal," Greg translated. "We're all wondering it," he mumbled when he got looks from the other two men. "I just had the guts to say it."

Grissom quietly removed his hand from his wife's, and slipped it into his pants pocket. "The fact of the matter is…things might never go back to the way they were."

"Don't say that," Sara said softly.

"Reality has to be faced," he continued. "Even if I'm acquitted of the charges, I was still arrested. And that is grounds for dismissal."

"Dismissal?" Warrick cursed under his breath. "It's not like any one of us hasn't wanted to deck some of the bastards who come through here."

Grissom raised his shoulders. "Wanting to and actually doing it are very different things. I made a mistake. And if I have to, I'll pay for it."

"It's not right," Nick said. "Something's gone out of the team ever since…" He stopped. "Sorry. I'm not helping."

There was a moment's pause. "Whatever happens," Grissom began. "All of you should know this. It has been my honor and privilege to work with you. What I've taught you is nothing compared to what each of you has taught me." He smiled ruefully. "I should have said that a long time ago."

There was no time for anyone to react because just then, Ecklie appeared.

"Gil." His tone was grave. "Can I see you in my office? Now?"

Sara stepped up beside her husband. "Shouldn't I be included in this?"

Ecklie pointed a finger at her. "You're on a case, remember? I've looked the other way the past two nights, Sidle. But not anymore."

"Actually," she narrowed her eyes at him. "It's Grissom, now."

"I'll note that in your file," he snapped as he left. Grissom followed him, but not before giving Sara a parting kiss.

Sara looked back at the guys once he was gone, and found a mix of expressions on their faces. Warrick seemed faintly surprised at the PDA, Nick looked vaguely disconcerted, and Greg couldn't meet her eyes.

She'd never considered how marrying Grissom could change her relationship with them. Suddenly, her head ached.

Clearing her throat, she addressed Warrick. "So…anything new on Lara Monroe?"

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Ecklie gestured to the chairs. "Have a seat, Gil."

"If it's all the same, I'll stand."

"Oh, for god's sake, just sit down. Sidle's the same…practically have to order her into a seat. Like they were poisonous or something." Parking himself behind his desk, Ecklie shook his head as Grissom stood without moving an inch. "Fine, have it your way."

"What is this all about? I assume you're not going to tell me that I can get back to work."

His smile was tight. "I suppose I should congratulate you on your marriage."

"Thank…"

"But I won't," Ecklie cut him off abruptly. "Because I believe it's just about the worst thing you could have done."

It was a credit to years of practice dealing with the man that Grissom was able to conceal all but the barest hint of reaction to this. "Well, while I've never encouraged outside opinions on my private life, I certainly appreciate your tactful observation, Conrad. Especially considering your expertise in what makes for a lasting marriage. How is your ex-wife, by the way? Enjoying her alimony?"

Ecklie very pointedly ignored this. "What were you thinking, Gil? In the wake of the near-crisis that stemmed from your relationship with your subordinate…you decide to marry her! Were you even considering how this might affect any number of people?"

"Strangely enough, no," Grissom replied. "I wasn't thinking about any number of people when I asked the woman I love to marry me."

"Don't give me romantic, sappy bullshit. Personally, I don't care if you're on some kamikaze mission with your career. I've seen it coming for years, to be honest. But there's more at stake than just you or her."

"How much more legitimate do you want our relationship to get, Conrad? We're not having an affair, or a dalliance, or a little bit on the side. We're married. And since I'm not currently supervising her…or even working with her…where is the violation of lab policy? Or the appearance of impropriety that you so effectively employed in order to manipulate her?"

Ecklie blinked and searched for a counter-move. "My first and last thought is of this lab. Anything I do or say…I do or say it for this institution."

Grissom shook his head sadly. "I know what that's like. That used to be me. I also know that I can't go back to that place. I have new first and last thoughts now. So, you know what? Make it official. Fire me. I'll lose a lot, but I won't lose everything."

A long moment passed. Finally, just as it seemed like Ecklie might figure out something to say to that, his office door burst open and Greg came running in, panting in exertion.

"Grissom!" His eyes were wide and panicked. "You gotta come…now! It's Sara. She just passed out!"

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To Be Continued


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone for all the kind reviews. I hope you keep enjoying!

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All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"I'm fine, really. I just haven't been getting much sleep lately."

The ER doctor turned on his flashlight and pointed the beam directly into Sara's eyes. "You've been experiencing insomnia?"

She waited until the light was gone to give him a look. "I got married two days ago. I've been experiencing sex."

He bit back a smile. "Follow my finger." As he moved his hand up, down and side to side, he continued with his questions. "Have you had any headaches or dizziness?"

"A slight headache," Sara admitted. "But it was just because…there's been a lot of stress in my life lately. And maybe I haven't been handling it well. I'm sure this is just my body's way of telling me to slow down."

"Well, we'll see. In the meantime, I'd like to get a head CT." He made a note on her chart. "Is there any chance that you could be pregnant?" When he got no response, the doctor looked up. "Mrs. Grissom?"

Sara looked down at her hands. "It's possible."

Glancing at his nurse, the doctor nodded. "Okay. The radiation from the CT could harm a fetus in the first trimester, so we're going to hold off on that while we draw some blood and run a test for hCG. That's the hormone that…"

"Human chorionic gonadotropin, I know. And if it's positive?"

"Then…congratulations. And we'll perform a series of alternate neurological tests if necessary. However, if you are expecting, it's entirely possible you fainted for reasons related to the early stages pregnancy. We'll know more soon."

The exam room was chilly. At least that's what Sara told herself as she hugged her arms around her body. "Can my husband come in now?"

"Of course." The doctor stood up, tucking his pen back into his lab coat. "I'll send him in myself."

"Thanks." When the doctor was gone, Sara let out a ragged breath.

The nurse paused as she assembled the tools she'd need for drawing the necessary blood sample. "Are you all right?"

For some reason, the truth just flowed from her. Her defenses were down, and the nurse was as good a sounding board as anyone. "I told him there was no reason for us to discuss children…and he was just fine with that. We've been married for two days. A baby…" She stopped and couldn't bring herself to start again.

"Why don't you wait for the test results before you give yourself even more stress?" the nurse kindly suggested. Sara nodded absently. The nurse smiled, thinking she'd actually helped. "Okay. Hold out your arm, and we'll get started."

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"Your wife is conscious and aware. We still have a few tests to perform, but I believe she's going to be just fine. You can go in and see her now."

Grissom ran his hand down his beard. "But why did she faint? There has to be a reason. One minute she was fine, and the next, she was passed out on the floor. That's not normal. Do you know what's wrong with her?"

"Mr. Grissom, like I said, we're still looking into exactly what caused this. But I've done a preliminary exam, and I don't think it's anything neurological. She's otherwise healthy." He stopped. "You need to talk to your wife. After, we'll talk more. Now if you'll excuse me…"

He let the man go, because he wanted to see Sara more than he wanted to argue with the doctor who, as far as he was concerned, was being entirely too blasé about her condition.

Grissom entered the exam room just as the nurse was bandaging the inside of Sara's elbow. His wife looked up as he came in. Her smile was hesitant, and he felt fresh worry blossom in the center of his chest.

The nurse gathered her up her equipment and the vial of Sara's blood. "I'll be back to check on you in few minutes," she said on her way out.

"Sara," Grissom began as soon as they were alone. "What's going on?"

She gestured to the stool the doctor had sat on during the examination. "Sit down. Please."

He walked over to it, but didn't sit. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I scared you."

Grissom slid his hands into his pockets. "You were so pale…"

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just got…really dizzy and I couldn't keep myself up anymore. Next thing I know, I'm in an ambulance."

"You wouldn't wake up." He swallowed heavily. "The doctor just talked to me, but he didn't really say anything. He wouldn't tell me why. Did he tell you?"

Sara touched her forehead. "He wanted to send me for a CT."

"Wanted to?"

She nodded. "But he can't."

Grissom frowned. "Why the hell not? You fainted, Sara! How can he rule anything out if he doesn't…"

"He can't…because I might be pregnant." Sara lifted her shoulder. "If I am, the radiation would hurt the baby."

At this, Grissom sat down. A few minutes stretched by before he said anything. "It hasn't been that long since you stopped wearing the…the…"

"That night at my apartment…on the floor…I wasn't wearing it then. I went to my gynecologist the next day and got an ECP. But I never took it." She paused. "I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Grissom closed his eyes for a moment. "I got the impression that you thought the timing wasn't right for…anything to happen."

"My body's surprised me before." Sara wet her lips. "Look, it might not be true. They're running a test on the blood they just took. Maybe I'm just stressed. Or I have a massive clot forming in my brain." She bit her lip for a moment. "Judging by the horrified look on your face, either one would be a better diagnosis than pregnancy."

"Sara, stop that." A trace of irritation touched his expression. "I'm processing this. You know it takes me a moment."

"I guess I hoped a baby wouldn't be something you've never even considered."

Grissom let out a breath. "Honestly, I figured the window of opportunity to be a father had shut for me."

"What about me? I'm thirty-five."

"I know," he grimaced. "Trust me, I know."

Sara let out a choked laugh. "Oh god…tell me we're not going to go through all of that again. I just don't have the energy to fight another round in the age difference war."

He gripped the bars on the exam bed. "What do you want me to say, Sara? That having a baby is the best thing for us right now? Two days into our marriage, and right at the start of what could be a long trial, one that has the potential to end in jail time?"

"I want you to say that the idea of me carrying a human being we created together isn't completely…offensive." She brushed away a tear before it had a chance to escape down her cheek. "Beyond that, I don't want anything."

Guilt flooded him. "Honey…" He reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away. He tried again, "I didn't process enough before I spoke. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "You're not supposed to process, Gil. You're supposed to go on gut reaction. And if your gut is reacting like this…that tells me pretty much all I need to know."

"You expect me to go from aging bachelor one week to husband and father the next week, without a single moment of hesitation or fear?" Grissom pulled back from her. "Don't say you don't want anything. Because you're asking for a hell of a lot."

"If you think I don't have hesitation or fears about becoming a mother, you're dead wrong. I got that pill the day after we had sex because I knew we couldn't have a baby when we were apart. But we're together now…and yeah, we're still facing a lot of obstacles…but if this is true, if I'm pregnant…nothing will stop me from having this child."

Grissom released the metal bars. His hands felt cold and clammy. "I just need a little time." At her look, he sighed. "It's how I am, Sara. It's what you fell in love with, right?

Sara cleared her throat. "You have a few months to process…whatever. After that, if you're still not decided, it'll be way too late."

"We're talking like this is reality already. It's not." It was his turn to shake his head. "I'm not going to lose you. Not after I just got you back."

"Then tell me you want this baby. If there is a baby." Grissom hesitated. Her expression hardened. "Never mind. I should have known you'd…"

"I was supposed to look at a house this afternoon." His quiet statement stopped her cold. "Two stories. Old, but classically designed. Lots of trees in the yard. Family neighborhood. I wanted to buy it the moment I saw it." He met her questioning stare. "Everything's changing so fast, Sara. I'm trying to keep up, but every time I think I've reached the point where I'm fine with things the way they are, something shifts, and I'm back to feeling like I'm completely out of control, at the mercy of fate."

"You hate that," she whispered.

He nodded. "But at the same time, it's exhilarating, surrendering that control. Punching that bastard…marrying you…telling Ecklie to fire me…and now possibly bringing life into the world…I barely recognize Gil Grissom anymore. He's not the man he was even a year ago."

She smiled softly. "You can't change him so much that I'd ever stop loving him."

"I'll want this baby," he said abruptly. "I might pass out myself before it's all said and done, but I'll want it. I'll love it. How could I not?"

Sara held out her hand and he took it, warming it between his own. They stayed like this for the better part of an hour, until the doctor returned.

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To Be Continued


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I think I've kept ya'll on the cliff long enough. Thanks for "hanging" in there with me!

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All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

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Sara returned to work the next night, just in time for good news in the Lara Monroe case.

Before Warrick would tell her anything, she found herself the subject of a thorough once-over. Apparently, you couldn't just faint in the middle of the lab, and be lucky enough to have everyone forget about it.

"You're sure you're okay?" her partner asked her with a critical eye.

"Do you want a doctor's note?"

Warrick looked her up and down. "Don't give me lip, girl. I watched you get hauled out of here by the paramedics 24 hours ago. You don't get to stand there looking at me like I'm crazy for wondering if you're all right."

His words struck a guilty chord in her. "I'm sorry. I promise I'm fine."

Greg walked into the layout room, carrying a thick file that was spread open across his arms. "So, why'd you faint?" he added, inviting himself into their conversation. "People don't just zoink out for no reason."

"I'll tell you," Sara said, crossing her arms. "When you tell us the real reason why you wore that bandage over your nose for two weeks."

He nearly dropped his file as he reached up to touch the bridge of his nose. As he scrambled to catch it, he mumbled to himself, "I took a football to the face."

"And I fainted for no reason." Sara returned her attention to Warrick. "Now tell me what you've found out."

Warrick gave in with a sigh. "That partial shoe print you and Grissom found…"

"I thought it was virtually untraceable," she interrupted.

"Virtually. Not totally. The wear impression indicates that the person who made it is pigeon-toed."

"So…that's it? That's the big break? We're looking for a pigeon-toed killer?"

Warrick held up his hands in self-defense. "Anything that narrows the suspect pool is fine by me."

She glared at him for a moment. "All right, you've got me there."

Catherine breezed into the room just then. "Greg, where's the DNA report for…" She stopped upon seeing Sara. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"My job." Sara frowned. "Is there a reason why no one wants me here today?"

Greg spoke up from the other end of the layout table, where he was spreading out reports and crime scene photos. "It's called 'concern,' Sara. It happens when someone passes out cold in the middle of the lab. For no reason."

"I'm fine!" Sara exploded.

Nick had the misfortune of coming in just in time for that. He winced and put a hand to his ear. "Whoa, what's going on in here?"

"Nothing," Greg said. "Can't you see that Sara's fine?"

"Hey, Marcia Brady." Warrick gave the younger man a warning look. "Cool it."

Handing Catherine the DNA report he'd come to deliver, Nick motioned to Sara. "Wanna get a cup of coffee with me?"

With a hand to her forehead, Sara nodded. Nick guided her out the door, then turned to the others. "I'll get it out of her," he assured them in a low, conspiratorial tone.

In the break room, Sara sank down onto the couch. "I didn't mean to go off in there. I just…can't stand being fussed over."

"I know." Nick reached for two cups and the coffee pot.

She caught him just in time. "Decaf, please."

"Not sure what's more surprising. The decaf or the please," he joked. But he picked up the other pot and poured her cup. "You knew that if you came in tonight you'd get a fair amount of fuss. So…why come?"

Sara accepted the cup from him. "Because."

He sat on the arm of the couch with his own cup. "Gonna need more than that."

"If I'd stayed at home, I would have been fussed over just as much. Maybe even more. Here, at least I can do something productive at the same time."

Nick nodded. "I gotta tell you, I've never seen Grissom look so totally lost as he was last night when you wouldn't wake up. Maybe cut him a little slack? He just wants to take care of you." Sara stared into her coffee. "I'm almost afraid to ask this, but you're okay, right?"

"I will be," she allowed.

"But you're not now?" He frowned. "I don't get it."

Sara smiled softly. "Maybe you're right. I should be at home." She set her cup aside and stood up. "Tell the others I'm sorry." He nodded. "Thanks, Nick."

"I didn't do much. I poured coffee and asked if you're okay."

"Yes, but you did it in a very not-annoying way."

Although still confused, Nick had to wink. "That's me. Not-annoying guy." As she started to go, he stopped her. "Sara, you'd tell us if you were dying…wouldn't you?"

She lifted one shoulder. "Eventually."

"Eventually," he repeated once she was gone. "Great."

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When she got back to Grissom's place, he was in the middle of fixing a late dinner.

"I had my doubts that they'd convince you to go home," he told her when she asked why he'd waited so long to eat. "But I figured it was worth a shot."

"I'm not really hungry," Sara confessed.

Grissom stirred something in the big pot on the stove. "You can't take your vitamins on an empty stomach."

She came up beside and sniffed the air. "It does smell kinda good. What is it?"

"Lentil stew." He kissed her cheek. "Beef would be better for you."

"Lentils are a perfectly good source of iron," she reminded him.

"Non-heme iron," Grissom corrected her. "And non-heme is better absorbed when a heme source is also present."

Sara wandered around the island and sat on one of the barstools facing him. "Still a vegetarian, baby."

As he ground pepper into the pot, he studied his wife. "You look tired."

She put a hand against her stomach. "I think you mean anemic."

"Nauseous?"

"A little." Sara paused. "I almost told Nick. Almost," she clarified when he opened his mouth to say something. "Now he just thinks I'm dying."

Grissom shook his head, amused. "You could have told him if you wanted to."

"No, I want to wait. I want the trial behind us, and I want you there, back at work."

"That might not happen, Sara."

"Please stop talking like that." She moved her hand up to her neck, rubbing it wearily.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Grissom walked around to her side of the counter. "I'm sorry, honey." He was a little caught off guard when she swung around and buried her face against his chest. "Sara?" He tossed the towel aside in order to stroke her hair. "What's wrong?"

"Remember how the wedding hit you in the hotel room?" she asked, her voice muffled by his sweater. "Well…" She lifted her head and looked up at him. "I'm having one of those moments right now."

Grissom cupped her face in his hands. "Okay. We'll get through your moment like we got through mine."

"No offense, but mine's seeming a little bigger than yours." She returned her cheek to the comfort of his chest. "At least a lot more permanent."

"Sara." He swallowed heavily. "Have you changed your mind about wanting this baby?" She shook her head against him, and it was all he could do not to sigh in utter relief.

Sometime in the 24 hours since the doctor had informed them that the hCG level in Sara's blood confirmed that she was pregnant, he'd become inexplicably attached to the idea of it all. The baby was barely more than a cluster of cells, but already he had hopes and dreams for it. He'd told Sara he would love their hypothetical child. But he hadn't realized it would happen so fast. Who knew that you could fall in love with something you wouldn't see or touch for months?

She drew back to see him. "We really need to work on timing our freak-outs."

"I think they're timed just fine," Grissom told her, after giving her a kiss. "At any given time, one of us is calm, and the other is having a moment."

Sara smiled, and this time it was genuine. "I guess that makes sense."

"I know what we need." He took her hand and gently pulled her towards the living room.

She watched him copy his motions of what seemed like a lifetime ago, as he pulled out the now-familiar record and started it playing.

Grissom looked at her before he lowered the needle to the record. "We never finished our dance."

_Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream_

Sara rested her chin on his shoulder as they moved to the music. "Baby likes dancing," she murmured. He lightly squeezed her hand, and she closed her eyes happily. "Moment over."

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To Be Continued

A/N: Sorry to the people who didn't want her to be pregnant. I was going to end up disappointing someone, so I just went with my gut on this one.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Sorry this chapter took a little while to come out. Sometimes the words flow; sometimes you have to literally pull them out. But I hope the end results regardless. Thank you!

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All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

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Grissom hadn't seen his mother cry in years. But when she was told that she was going to be a grandmother, some dam within her broke. He hadn't known it was possible to sob and smile and sign all the same time.

Sara was quiet through their silent conversation. As his mother started thanking God in ASL, their eyes met across the table. His wife's shone with tears of her own, and a lump suddenly formed in his throat.

"I think she's happy," Sara whispered.

"I think you're right," he replied.

They drove her to the airport after dinner, and on their way back, Sara had what she considered her first official craving. They made an emergency stop at Baskin Robbins.

Back at Grissom's place, she was halfway through her chocolate-peanut butter and strawberry cheesecake sundae when he looked up from his own single scoop of vanilla. It took her a moment to notice him watching her. Immediately, Sara's hand flew to her mouth.

"Am I making a mess?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No. I'm just…making sure I never forget this."

"What? Me pigging out?" She dug her spoon into her ice cream. "I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of it over the next few months." Her tongue darted out to lick the corner of her lip. He was still looking at her. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Grissom pushed his ice cream away and ran his hand down his beard several times. Sara let him take his time, pretending to be very interested in the peanut butter swirl in her cup until he spoke.

"I'm scared, Sara." Her head jerked up; he looked to his right, avoiding her stare. "I don't want to lose everything I just got. Not even for six months. I'm afraid…of missing a single moment of this."

Setting her cup aside, Sara reached for his hands. They were cold, and she suspected it wasn't from the ice cream. "Please look at me?" His gaze slid back to meet hers; she could see the fear there. And the shame. "I'm not scared," she said with a confident smile. "Even if the worst happens…it's not going to change things between us."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he lifted her hand and kissed her palm. "I love you, honey."

They ended up in the bedroom, leaving the leftover ice cream to melt. He undressed her with delicate care, piece by piece until she was bared before him. It was far too slowly for her liking. Her attempts to speed things along were met with gentle resistance. If he was trying to frustrate her into a passionate frenzy, he was succeeding.

Sara's gaze lowered as he kneeled in front of her. He rested the side of his head against her still-flat belly for a second, before turning his face into the giving flesh. She shivered even though his lips were soft and warm as they planted kisses over the spot where their child grew.

She pushed her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up at her. He got the message that lay in the dark centers of her eyes. As he rose to his feet, he began shedding his own clothes.

"I don't want to hurt either of you," Grissom whispered, settling between her thighs.

"You won't," she soothed him. Her hand curved around the back of his neck, drawing him closer to her. "We're fine…"

Even with her reassurances, their lovemaking was exquisitely tender, a perfect dance in slow motion. A moment to be remembered in the days to come.

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"What exactly did Mr. Walker say just before your husband assaulted him?"

Sara opened her mouth, but then thought better of what she was going to say. Hesitating was a bad thing, but they'd invited Grissom's lawyer over for dinner specifically to run through her testimony. He was there to turn her into the prosecution's best witness for the defense. And she intended to make use of the help.

"How should I answer that?"

"With the bare facts, Sara." Brady helped himself to a second serving of sweet and sour pork. "No justifications. Let me put the spin on it. It's what I'm getting paid to do."

With his chopsticks, Grissom transferred the vegetables from his carton of moo goo gai pan into Sara's. She shot him a look, but ended up smiling. "Okay," she said after swallowing a bite of broccoli. "He made lewd remarks regarding sexual positions I might enjoy."

"And do you enjoy them?"

Sara coughed. At the same moment, Grissom's eyes flew open wide. "Hey!"

Brady held up his hands against the two very taken-aback criminalists in front of him. "The element of surprise. I'm not expecting them to ask anything like that, but you have to be prepared for anything."

"I get it," Sara said, putting a hand on her husband's wrist. "Why don't we take a little break?"

Brady nodded. "Sure. Can you point out your bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the left," Grissom said. When his lawyer was gone, he stuffed his chopsticks into his carton and pushed away from the table. "This isn't right. You shouldn't be subjected to any of this."

"Let's not forget that I'm on the prosecution's witness list. They're going to look very stupid if they try to tear down my character, when they're counting on my testimony to convince the judge to convict you." She entwined their fingers. "You have a good lawyer, baby."

His chin dropped to his chest for a moment before he looked back up at her. "And I have you."

The doorbell rang before Sara could reply. She indicated for him to stay seated, and headed to answer it.

"Catherine?"

"Hey." She glanced over Sara's shoulder into the house. "Bad time?"

"Yeah. I mean…no." Sara forced a smile. "Come on in."

Grissom started to stand when the two women re-entered the living room, but Catherine stopped him. "It's okay. I know I'm probably intruding, but I just wanted to drop by and say 'hi'. So…hi."

Sara had never realized it before, but Catherine was actually capable of being shy.

If Grissom sensed this, he hid it well. But he did walk to her, and kissed her cheek. "Are you hungry? We ordered too much food."

When Brady rejoined the group five minutes later, Catherine was right in the middle of sucking up a big mouthful of lo mein noodles. Sara bit her lip to hold back a laugh as the older woman tried to regain her composure while chewing and swallowing. Another fun fact about Catherine: she could get flustered.

Grissom made the introductions. "Catherine, this is my lawyer, Joseph Brady. Brady, Catherine Willows."

Sara saw interest on both of their faces, despite the fact that Catherine was still blotting her lips with a paper napkin. This was confirmed later when she was in the kitchen putting on a fresh pot of tea, and Catherine accosted her.

"Okay, tell me everything you know about the very handsome man in your living room."

"Well…" Sara turned away from the stove. "He's in his early fifties. He likes opera and classical music theatre. He reads a lot. Very dedicated to his profession. But I have to warn you, he's recently married, so…"

Catherine's look was sharp and exasperated. "The other man in your living room."

"I see." Was it wrong to enjoy every moment of this? "You're interested in my husband's defense attorney."

The smile Sara received was much sweeter than the reply that accompanied it. "I'd like to ride him like Seabiscuit."

One more thing about Catherine. No matter what, she always regained the upper hand.

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Later, when Brady had left (with Catherine's number in his palm pilot) and Sara had turned in for the night, Grissom and Catherine opened a bottle of wine.

Catherine took a sip, considered it and nodded. "Nice. What is it?"

"2002 Benziger Merlot," he replied, pouring his own glass.

"Napa?"

"Sonoma." Grissom sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "I need to talk to you."

"I figured as much." Taking another sip, she indicated for him to go on.

"Sara's pregnant."

Half of Catherine's mouthful of wine ended up back in her glass. "Jesus, Gil," she sputtered. "Learn how to segue way!" Licking the corner of her lip, she took a moment to consider this news. "At least she's not dying. Nick," she explained when Grissom gave her a puzzled look. "Wow. A baby."

"Yeah." He was looking down, so she missed his small smile. "It's amazing."

She watched him from over the rim of her glass. "Congratulations. Now what's the matter?"

"It's nothing to do with Sara, or the baby." Grissom drained his glass and poured another. "But being faced with fatherhood has made me accept certain truths." He shook his head. "They're not going to let me come back, Catherine."

"You don't know that." But she said it because, as his friend, she had to, not because she believed it.

He gave her one of his looks. "I've been weighing my options. Of course, there are other labs. Some might even overlook my brand-new criminal record."

"How about teaching?" she suggested. "You always seemed to enjoy lecturing."

"I can't be flying around the country ten months out of the year, leaving Sara here with a new baby. I want to be with my family, Catherine. I want to do my job." Grissom laughed at himself. "I want to buy a house with a backyard."

"The American Dream." Her smile was wry.

His expression cooled. "I don't know what to do."

"What does Sara think?"

"We haven't exactly talked about this in any real detail." Grissom defended himself from the look he got, "I can't burden her with the knowledge of just how uncertain our future is."

"You two just plain deserve each other," Catherine grumbled. "She overprotects you. You overprotect her. And you both end up thinking the wrong things, and making everything worse." She set down her glass. "Talk to your wife. Being married means you have to work your crap out together."

Grissom frowned. "So, on all those nights you cried on my shoulder about Eddie, I should have just sent you home to work your 'crap' out?"

"That was low." She sighed. "But…touché. Look, Sara married you knowing the score. Don't treat this like some great yoke you have to bear alone. You're two freakishly smart people, an you'll figure it all out eventually."

"You know, when I open a bottle of good wine, I expect better answers to my major life questions."

Catherine held out her nearly empty glass, expectantly. "I only solve existential crises for Dom."

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

When he finally made it to bed, two bottles of wine later, his fumblings in the dark woke Sara from a heavy doze. She sat up in bed, and squinted in the dark. "Baby?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered loudly. "Go back to sleep."

Instead of obeying, Sara switched the bedside lamp on. Her husband was fighting a battle with his belt buckle. And he was losing. She pulled her knees up to her chest and watched with faint amusement. "I hope Catherine called a cab."

"Are you kidding?" Grissom slurred. "Catherine can drink anyone under the table, and still walk a straight line."

Once he'd shed enough clothes to be comfortable for the night, Sara held her hand out to him. "Come on. Into bed."

He flopped onto the covers next to her with a sigh of relief. Scooting down a bit, she lay alongside him. She could smell wine, but it wasn't unpleasant. His body was warm with alcohol, and when he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, she closed her eyes in complete comfort. "You should take some aspirin," she whispered, sleepily.

Grissom shook his head back and forth. "I'm okay." He closed his eyes. "I have you."

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

To Be Continued


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: More thanks to PhDelicious, for her mad beta skills. And thanks to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter, in spite of alert issues:)

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Grissom woke up with the headache from hell. This wasn't a migraine; this was a torture he had inflicted upon himself. Why had it seemed like such a good idea at the time to drink the better part of two bottles of wine?

He expected no pity from his wife, but he got it nonetheless, proof that he had married a truly compassionate woman. She had aspirin and water waiting for him when he managed to pull his head off the pillow.

"Do you think you can eat?" she asked when he'd swallowed two pills.

Grissom winced. "Honey…not so loud, please."

Sara bit back a smile. "Sorry," she whispered.

"You should go…" He closed his eyes. "Before my head explodes all over you."

"It would be a shame to ruin the sheets." She snapped her fingers, and he flinched. "Shower."

Somehow she got him into the bathroom. He draped himself over the sink as she started the water. "Never again," he vowed.

After a therapeutic amount of time under a steaming spray of water, Grissom felt that he could stomach food. Sara scrambled eggs, toasted bread, sliced a tomato, and poured coffee into the biggest mug he owned. She watched him eat with an amused smile on her face.

"I know what you're thinking," he said when he was able to form coherent thoughts again. "I'm old enough to know better."

"Actually I was just thinking how adorable you are when you're hung-over. It's not often that I get to take care of you. And it's nice. That you'll let me."

Grissom paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Sara, a lot of last night is fuzzy, but there's one thing I remember. You and I need to sit down and talk soon. About the future."

Sara's smile faltered. "Can't we just wait until the trial's over?"

"I don't think so." He reached across the counter with his free hand and took hers. "It's not just the two of us anymore."

She nodded reluctantly. "All right. But it's going to have to wait. While you were sobering up in the shower, I got a page. Duty calls."

He sighed; taking her hand had wiped out a lot of the little energy he currently possessed. "Be careful?"

"I will." Sara came around the island and gave him the softest of kisses. "Eat your tomato," she ordered in her best 'wife' voice. "They're my sure-fire hang-over cure."

"I thought your hang-over cure was sex." He tried to give her a look, but his eyes were too bleary to pull it off. "That's what you told me the last time we drank too much together."

"Wow. I will say anything to get you naked." She tossed him a grin over her shoulder as she walked out of the kitchen.

Grissom returned to his breakfast with a smile of his own.

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Hey, Sar…there's a woman at the front desk asking for you."

Sara looked up from the layout table and blinked as her eyes adjusted. She'd been staring at the photos spread out over the lighted surface for thirty minutes without realizing it.

Greg leaned into the doorway as he delivered his message. "That's not good for your eyes," he pointed out when she started blinking.

"Thanks," she said dryly. "Who's at the front desk?"

He shrugged. "She looks sort of familiar, but I couldn't place her. You want me to go back and give her the brush-off?"

"That's all right." Her hand went to her belly. It was a motion she'd found herself making more and more. Some sort of maternal instinct that she hoped would go unnoticed for the time being. "I need a break."

"You okay?" he asked with a critical look up and down her body. "If you're gonna pass out again, give me some warning so I can at least try to catch you."

Well, he'd noticed. But fortunately he was still clueless. "I'm not going to pass out."

Greg folded his arms. "How can you be sure? If you didn't know you were going to last time…"

"Greg." Sara approached him. "You're sweet. And I'm very lucky to have people in my life who worry about me. But please…drop this."

He gave in after a second and nodded. "Okay. But only because I respect you immensely. And you could kick my ass."

"You're clear of that threat for awhile." She gave his arm a light punch as she squeezed past him.

The woman who was waiting at the front desk did indeed look familiar, but just like her younger co-worker, Sara wasn't able to place her right away. They were probably the same age, although her visitor was obviously trying to shave off a few years with a combination of make-up and minor cosmetic surgery. Her lips just didn't look right.

"Sara Sidle?" She stuck her hand out; her nails were expensive, but fake. "Or is it 'Grissom' now?"

Sara reluctantly shook it. "What can I do for you, Ms…?"

"You don't recognize me." It was less of a question, and more a statement of utter wonderment. "Wendy Miller, Action News 10."

A reporter. Instantly, Sara's guards went up. If Wendy Miller was looking for an exclusive on the serial rapist, she wasn't going to get it from her.

"I'm sorry, but whatever it is you want me to comment on…"

Wendy held up her hand. "Hear me out. This isn't regarding any investigation."

Sara frowned. "Then why are you here?"

"Is there somewhere we could talk in private? Your office, maybe?"

"I don't have an office."

"What about your husband's?" Wendy studied her face, but Sara maintained her neutral expression. "I hear he's not using it these days."

"I'm not sure where you're getting your information, but…"

She was cut off yet again. "His arrest is a matter of public record."

Sara looked over the reporter's shoulder. Poor Judy. She was trying very hard not to listen in, but there wasn't much she could do to prevent it, short of abandoning the phones.

"Come on," Sara said tersely. "But if you have any recording equipment running, turn it off now."

Wendy held up her hands. "Wire-free for thirty days. One day at a time."

It felt strange to be in Grissom's office while he wasn't even in the building. Everything was exactly as he'd left it. Even the mess of files on his desk. While Wendy pretended to be very interested in his specimen jars, Sara gathered the files and stuffed them into a drawer. Reporters weren't to be trusted.

"Have a seat," she offered, before seating herself in Grissom's chair. It was a little bit like playing dress-up in your mother's clothes. She leaned back and tried to look as comfortable as possible. "Sorry I can't offer you something to drink." She didn't add that it was likely that the only liquid in Grissom's fridge was expired blood.

"I'm fine." Wendy crossed her legs with prim grace. "By the way, congratulations on your marriage."

"How do you know about it?" Sara shook her head. "And why do you even care?"

"I see the pleasantries are over." The reporter shrugged. "Fine. I'll get down to business. My reason for being here." She paused dramatically.

Sara's patience was already wearing thin. "And it is…?"

Wendy smiled sweetly. "I'm going to help your husband keep his job."

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You look like hell." Brady gestured his client toward his couch, rather than the chair he usually took. "Don't ever show up at court like this."

Grissom sat down on the cool leather. His head had stopped pounding before he'd even left the house, but he couldn't shake the grogginess. "Trust me. I'm never drinking with Catherine again."

Brady cleared his throat. "That Catherine…what's the history there?" At the puzzled look he got, he clarified, "Between you two."

"We work together," Grissom replied. "And we're old friends."

"Yeah, but considering how she looks… You're telling me you've never tried to…you know?"

"For a lawyer, you're not very subtle." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Please don't sleep with my co-worker until after my trial."

Brady shrugged. "Fair enough. Speaking of the trial, there's a reason why I called you down here."

"So you said on the phone. You know, you could have saved me a trip if you'd just relayed the information then."

"I like to deliver bad news in person." The younger man paused. "I got the prosecution's witness list today. They are putting Sara on the stand."

"Well, we figured that," Grissom said with a sigh. "Isn't that why you've already started prepping her?"

"There's more."

"Great."

Brady sat on the edge of his desk. "Your case has been handed over to a new ADA."

"Why?"

"Bullshit reasons. Basically, the DA knows he can't win with Leery at the helm. So he's brought in someone else. Do you know Chuck Rowland?"

He blinked. "'Row 'Em Upstream' Rowland? Yeah. I've testified for him."

"Then you know that he's only lost two cases in his entire career." Brady folded his arms. "I don't know what you did to piss off the DA's office, Gil, but it must have been a doozy."

Grissom ran his hands down his face. "I need a drink."

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

To Be Continued


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Characters contained do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Wow. Okay, I know I haven't updated this story for an inexcusable amount of time. All I can say is...I sowry. If you're here reading, thanks for still being interested in the story! I hope it's worth the wait.

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

On the night before opening statements in _the State of Nevada vs. Gil Grissom_, Sara held a small dinner party. She planned every detail from the menu to the guest list, choosing to invite only the people her husband considered close friends. Catherine, Brass, Nick and Warrick, Doc Robbins and his wife, even Greg. She added Brady at the last minute, figuring that a free meal might help the lawyer speak with even more conviction the next day.

She was a desperate woman. For the past few weeks leading up to the trial, Grissom had become a zombie. He walked and he talked, but he was already living like he had one foot in a prison cell. And she couldn't take it anymore.

He'd protested the party, and that at least was normal for him. But she'd won in the end, and at five minutes to eight, Nick arrived with a bottle of wine and an apology for being early.

An hour later, they were surrounded by their team, their makeshift family. Brady's presence didn't seem at all intrusive. Not that he said much; his focus pretty much stayed on Catherine as they ate.

But despite the easy conversation, the shared laughter and amusing stories, every time that Sara snuck a glance at her husband over the rim of her water glass, he was looking off into space. As the meal went on, he picked at his food, gave one or two word answers, and generally served as a dark little thundercloud raining on everyone else's parade.

As discreetly as possible, she leaned in to speak to him towards the end of the main course. "Are you going to be this way for the rest of the night?"

Grissom glanced at her with a vaguely troubled frown. "What?"

"You're sucking the life out of your own party," Sara quietly informed him. "And if you intend to keep at it, maybe you should excuse yourself. The bedroom's much better for sulking."

"I told you I didn't want a party in the first place."

She swallowed back her hurt, and reminded herself of the stress he was under. "I thought you might feel differently when you saw everyone here. They only came to support you. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Grissom drained his wine glass. "All it means is that everyone here thinks that this will be my last supper. And you know what? I'm not sure they're wrong."

"You're being a bigger baby than the one keeping me from drinking tonight," she whispered harshly. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Sara stood up. "Excuse me," she said to their guests. "I'm going to check on dessert."

In the kitchen, she grabbed a handful of tissues and cursed her hormones. She'd intended for the party to be a reminder to Grissom that there were people who truly cared about him, and that no matter what the outcome of the trial, they'd still be around, caring for him at the end of it.

It had turned into an utter disaster, leaving her crying over a chocolate-hazelnut torte.

"If it's any consolation whatsoever, something smells wonderful in here."

Sara's back straightened upon hearing Catherine's voice behind her. She dabbed at the last of her tears and turned around, praying that her eyes weren't too puffy.

"Hormones?" the older woman guessed with a nod. "I cried at the drop of a hat with Lindsey."

It didn't surprise her that Grissom had told Catherine about the baby. If anything, it was almost a relief, not having to hide it anymore. She'd deflected enough questioning from Nick and Greg when she'd refused a cocktail with everyone else.

Sara balled up the tissues in her hand. "It's not all hormones."

"I figured that." Catherine shook her hair out of her eyes. "I felt like shouting 'dead man walking' earlier. He looks like shit." She paused. "The trial, I assume?"

All Sara could do was shrug her shoulders. "Probably. But I wouldn't know for sure. We haven't really been talking much lately."

"You're newlyweds. You're not supposed to talk."

"Something's happened to him over the past week or two. He's just…shut down." Sara's chin quivered. "And he won't let me in."

"He's scared, Sara."

"I know that!" she said, harsher than she'd intended to be. "I know," she repeated, softer this time. "I just want it all to be over and done."

Catherine picked up a piece of chopped hazelnut from the leftover pile on the cutting board. "Even if that means he's convicted, loses his job and goes to jail?"

Sara drew in a deep breath. "I can't control the trial. But his job..."

Crunching down on the nut, Catherine frowned. "What about it?"

After a moment's paused, and a glance around to make sure they were really alone, Sara took a step towards the other woman. "I think there's a way to save it."

"And that would be?"

It took Sara another second to decide to continue. She'd been carrying the weight of this secret for too long as it was; if she couldn't tell her husband yet, at least she could get it off her chest. "Someone approached me awhile back. And she seems to think that a public appeal to keep Gil at the lab would force Ecklie and Atwater and the rest of the higher-ups to keep him on staff."

"A public appeal?" Catherine repeated.

"Yeah. From the public. The ones who pay the taxes that keep us in business." Sara explained, "Do you know Wendy Miller of Channel 10 News?"

"Collagened lips. Likes to show off the cleft in her silicon when she interviews the mayor. Used to be able to hang upside down on the pole for a full minute." Catherine inclined her head. "I know her."

Sara blinked several times. "Okay. Well…she's mounting a feature story on Gil. It's mostly about the work he's done here in Vegas, but also his education and his training." She hesitated. "The physical obstacles he's overcome to continue his work."

Catherine stared at her. "Please tell me you didn't tell Wendy Miller about Gil's hearing loss."

"She already knew. Don't ask me how…but she knew." Sara ground the tissue into feathery pulp in her hand. "Wendy believes that with the rising crime rate, the public won't stand for the dismissal of a top criminalist who they feel has done more than his fair share to keep the streets safe. Especially a criminalist to whom they feel emotionally connected."

It took Catherine awhile to reply. "Sara, in case you haven't noticed, you married a man who literally ducks and covers when reporters arrive at a scene. I've resorted to bribery to get him to press conferences on more than one occasion. Gil and the limelight…they don't go together." She didn't realize that her voice was rising until it was too late. "He will fight this! Don't you know that? He will hate it!"

"Of course I know that!" Sara yelled back. "But I would rather have him resent me for the rest of our lives than see him deteriorate before my eyes because he's lost such a huge piece of himself!" Tears escaped down her cheeks. "In the past few weeks I've watched my husband become an old man. He…he's given up, Catherine. He doesn't have any hope anymore." She gathered her control, taking several deep breaths. "I can't control the outcome of the trial. But I might be able to control whether or not he can go back to doing what he loves when it's all over. Whether that's six days or six months from now."

Several seconds passed in strained silence. "And what is Wendy Miller getting out of all of this?" Catherine finally asked.

"Airtime?" Sara shook her head. "I have no idea. And as long as it works, I couldn't care less."

"I just hope you know what you're doing. The Wendy Miller I remember was…opportunistic. To say the least."

"Thanks for the warning," Sara said, wiping her cheeks dry with the back of her hand. "But you can't be the only stripper who gave up the lifestyle." At Catherine's arched eyebrow, she sighed. "Sorry. Can I still blame hormones?"

"Only for the next seven months."

Sara smiled ruefully. "Our relationship was a lot easier when we just resented the hell out of each other, wasn't it?"

"I actually preferred the time when I just flat-out hated you," Catherine tossed back. "Kept me from having to know you as an actual person. You could just be a horrible cliché, instead of a force to be dealt with."

"Careful. There might be a compliment buried somewhere under there."

Catherine lifted one shoulder non-committally. "I admire people who protect their loved ones at any cost." Before Sara could say anything to that, she pointed at the torte. "Let's get that sliced. I have my own hormones, and they respond well to chocolate."

They served up dessert in silence. When she was back at the table, seated next to her husband, Sara reached for his hand under the table. Grissom let their fingers touch for a few seconds before pulling his hand out of his lap in order to reach for his fork.

Sara managed only two bites before she excused herself to the bathroom.

* * *

"I really think that a good, aged Scotch is god's gift to the lower beings."

Brady raised his tumbler to Brass's declaration. "Here, here."

Grissom was less inclined to toast. Nursing his own drink, he sat in a dark corner of the balcony, watching the swirling colors of another Vegas night. He couldn't help but think that maybe it wasn't a bad thing that he and Sara probably wouldn't get that beautiful old house outside the city. He would miss the numbing lights that spread out below him.

"So tell me…" Brass watched the young lawyer like he might a suspect in custody. "Are you going to win this thing?"

"Straight-up? No bullshit?" Brass nodded. "I've won harder ones," Brady replied. "But not against Rowland."

"He's a barracuda," the police captain agreed. "And usually, I'm all for it." He swallowed a gulp of burning liquid. "Not this time."

"If he's a barracuda…I'm a shark," Brady boldly declared.

"You're at least one sheet to the wind," Grissom spoke up from his corner. "Go home. I'd like all of your brain cells functioning tomorrow morning."

His lawyer flicked him a salute. "You got it, boss. In deference to you, I will even call a cab and refrain from accepting Catherine's offer of a ride." Brady nodded at the men in turn. "Captain. Doctor." Leaving his empty glass behind, he headed back into the house.

Once he was gone, Brass looked at him. "That kid had better be either really good or really cheap."

Grissom flashed a joyless smile. "We'll see."

He felt himself being studied, and tried not to resent his friend for it. "You're scared shitless," Brass eventually said. "I don't blame you."

In the distance, there was a wailing siren from a police car. When it vanished on the cool breeze, Grissom spoke. "If they truly want to make an example of me…hold me up to the media as evidence that the system is fair and just and makes exceptions for no one…there's really not a lot I can do about it, save for accepting my fate and serving my time."

Brass sipped his Scotch. "You're probably right."

"Not even going to try to argue with me?"

"What's the point?" With a shrug, Brass added, "Politics suck, and you're stuck in a big pile of it. Sorry, Gil. Might as well give in now."

Grissom rested the back of his head against the wall. "If this is reverse psychology, you're not very good at it."

"Oh, should I apologize for not feeling sorry for a man who, at a time when most other guys his age are popping Viagra and Rogaine, has a brilliant and beautiful thirty-five year old wife who thinks he's the hottest thing going?"

He shook his head back and forth against the stone side of the balcony. "If only it were that simple."

Brass swallowed the last of his after-dinner drink and stood up. "Yeah, that's my cue to cut out. See you in court."

Grissom called out to him before he stepped into the house. "I'm going to lose everything, you know."

"Yeah," Brass agreed. "Keep treating her like you are and you will. I can name five guys down at PD who would love to take her off your hands. Hell, Greg Sanders would mess his pants if he had half a chance with her." He chuckled. "Ten years and a lot of Scotch ago, I would've…"

"You think I'm unaware of the good thing I've got?" Grissom cut him off. "Let me tell you something. If you had her…you might just find yourself lying awake at night, terrified of losing her."

Brass shook his head. "Don't go down that path, Gil. It just leads to her folded on the bathroom floor with her throat slit."

As he vaulted to his feet, Grissom threw his glass aside. The crystal shattered at the same time he came up against his old friend. Toe to toe, face to face.

"I would never hurt her," Grissom said between clenched teeth.

"Goodnight, Gil," Brass said a moment later. He took a step back. "Tell Sara she's one hell of a hostess."

He went for the bottle when Brass was gone. But he'd only taken a sip before he thought better. At the railing, Grissom turned the bottle upside down, raining Scotch down on the street below.

* * *

Sara peeked over the top of her pregnancy book when her husband entered the bedroom. Their guests were long gone; she'd been waiting for him for what seemed like forever.

He went straight into the bathroom and turned the water on at both the sink and the shower. A cloud of steam puffed out from the open door. She tried to focus on chapter three, diet and exercise in the first trimester, but it was an exercise in discipline and self-control not to get up and go to him.

Grissom came out fifteen minutes later, wrapped in a towel and using another one to dry his hair. She took advantage of the short time his vision was blocked by terrycloth to admire his familiar and beloved body. Maybe in her youth she'd appreciated lean muscles and a trim physique, but in her wiser years, giving flesh and an ample frame made her ache with longing.

He replaced the towel with a pair of pajama pants. Plaid. She loved the way the fabric felt against her legs when they lay in bed together watching TV or reading or just watching each other.

She smelled sandalwood soap when he slipped into bed beside her with a copy of the latest forensics journal. He retrieved his reading glasses from his night stand drawer, slipped them onto the bridge of his nose, and she fell in love with him for the four hundredth time.

When she felt the time was right, she spoke. "I'm sorry about the party. You didn't want it…and I pushed it on you anyway."

Grissom turned a page. "You didn't eat much. Were you feeling sick?"

"In a way." Sara shifted onto her side, scooting a little closer to his warm body. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd accept my apology."

He lowered the journal and removed his glasses. "Honey, the only one who should be apologizing in this bed tonight is me."

But he left it there without further elaboration. Sara closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she realized she was shaking with quiet rage.

"I must really love you if you can make me this mad," she said before rolling over onto her other side, presenting him with her back.

When she felt his hands on her bare skin a little while later, she flinched at his touch. When he planted a soft kiss between her shoulder blades, she arched away from him. But when he snaked a hand around her waist and cupped her flat belly, she realized she was fighting another battle in the hopeless war against her feelings for this man.

Grissom nuzzled the nape of her neck. "You married the king of the assholes."

Sara covered his hand with hers and drew it up for a kiss. "It was my choice. But do you have to keep proving it?"

They were quiet for a long time, content to lie there, back to chest, fingers entwined.

"What happens if I lose?" he asked, his voice unstable.

She turned over in the crook of his arm to look up at him. "I'm not going anywhere. We," she corrected herself. "We're not going anywhere."

Grissom dipped his head to kiss her thoroughly, like he hadn't in weeks. A whimper of pure pleasure escaped her lips. When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed, and she barely heard his whispered, "We'll see."

* * *

To Be Continued 


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story. And to everyone who understands that the creative process is just that, a process. And it doesn't necessarily work on a timed schedule. Unfortunately;)

* * *

All I Have to Do

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

"All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Clarence O'Neil presiding."

Sara stood with the rest of the small crowd gathered to witness her husband's day in court. He was only two rows up, standing next to Brady as the judge entered and took his own seat, but it seemed like miles. He was too far for her to reach out and take his hand like she suspected he needed as much as she did.

Several flashbulbs went off, reminding her that there were at least a few members of the press interested in the assault trial of a prominent CSI. She turned her head just a bit and caught sight of Wendy Miller in the back row. She gave Sara two thumbs up, and Sara tried to return a smile, but it came out very weak.

"Take your seats," the judge ordered. "I'll hear opening statements now. I flipped a coin in my chambers." He pointed at the prosecution's table. "You're first, Mr. Rowland. And I suggest you keep me interested. I've only had one cup of coffee this morning."

Sara had been in Judge O'Neil's courtroom before. It was never a dull experience.

Chuck Rowland stood up and buttoned his suit jacket with all the confident ease of a man who thought he had something in the bag.

"Your Honor, this is a simple case. There is a law that expressly prohibits one person from physically attacking another person. Gil Grissom broke that law when he broke JJ Walker's nose. Now we all know that he is one of the good guys." He used air quotes, and if Sara hadn't already hated him, that would have sealed the deal. "But even supposedly good guys do bad things. And their former good deeds shouldn't excuse them from punishment." He pointed to Grissom. "I ask you to consider only the law, Your Honor. Law that, as Aristotle decreed, is free of passion. When you do, you'll find Dr. Grissom guilty, and send the message that there is no one who is above justice. Thank you."

As soon as the ADA sat down, Brady sprung to his feet. He didn't bother buttoning his jacket.

"There's one word missing from Mr. Rowland's oversimplification of this case that makes it anything but simple. Provocation." He paused for effect. "Did Gil Grissom assault JJ Walker? That fact is not in question. Should he be punished for it?" Brady shook his head. "No. Acting in defense of himself and his wife, he took a course of action that the law recognizes. Because the law is not black and white. And it's certainly not free of passion. Allowances are made, and if we deny anyone their rights merely to turn them into an example, how can we call ourselves just at all?"

"Thank you, Mr. Brady…Mr. Rowland," Judge O'Neil said after he sat back down. "You were both surprisingly and pleasantly brief." He adjusted his glasses. "Mr. Rowland, call your first witness."

Again the man stood and again he buttoned his coat back up. "Your Honor, the State calls JJ Walker."

* * *

The judge granted a two hour recess for lunch after the prosecution finished with JJ. Brady turned down Grissom's officer to join him and Sara. He would be turning the tables on JJ after lunch, and needed to be prepared.

The testimony had been everything they expected, complete with enlarged pictures of JJ's broken nose. Grissom wasn't sure if it had worked on the judge or not, but it certainly had him wishing for another moment alone with the man.

Fortunately he had Sara by his side. She held his hand as they walked out of the courtroom, dodging reporters and cameras. They bought sandwiches from the cafeteria and took them into an empty conference room.

They didn't speak for a long time as they ate. When Grissom noticed Sara put down her cheese sandwich, he set down his own and blotted his mouth on a paper napkin, prepared for whatever she had to say.

"Gil," she began. "A reporter from Channel 10 approached me awhile back." She paused, and he refused to let himself jump in until she'd finished. "She wants to do a piece on you. Your life. Your career." Sara hesitated again. "She thinks the public will love you. Like I do." She rushed on, "Before you dismiss this out of hand, really think about it. Who pays the DA's and the Sheriff's and even Ecklie's paychecks? The taxpayers. In the end, who has the power over them?"

Confused, he frowned. "Sara, half the people in this city don't even know what an entomologist is."

"That's what the piece would do. It would let them know you. Everything you've done for them. And how they'll be less safe if you're not around to catch criminals."

"Why does that feel like emotional blackmail?"

"Because it is. And frankly, it sucks. But if it works…" Sara reached for his hand. "Will you consider it?"

Grissom took off his glasses with his free hand. "Honey…"

"Please."

One look in her eyes had him giving in with a sigh. "I'll think about it."

Sara nodded. "Okay." She picked up her sandwich again and took a bite. "The baby likes grilled cheese," she mumbled with a slight smirk.

There was a smattering of crumbs on her lower lip. Grissom leaned forward and kissed her, on the pretense of clearing them away. She tasted of butter and toasted bread; he just hoped his roast beef wouldn't offend her.

It didn't appear to, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him further into the kiss.

"Is that door locked?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"How much longer until we're due back?"

Grissom tickled the corner of her lip with his tongue. "Long enough."

She wound up on her back on the conference table, lunch forgotten. Clothes were pushed aside in haste, baring only what was necessary. He sank into her with abandon. The world didn't exist when he was buried in Sara. She had the power to make everything else seem insignificant.

He looked down at her just as she looked up at him. "You take my goddamn breath away," he told her. "Every time."

Sara closed her eyes, her back arching slightly beneath him. "I feel the same way." Her nails dug into his upper shoulders. "More…please."

Grissom ducked his head to kiss her, on a mission to grant her every desire.

* * *

"Mr. Walker." Brady approached the witness box. "Why were you in the custody of the Las Vegas Police Department?"

"Objection. Relevance?"

The judge waved his hand. "Overruled."

Sara could actually see JJ's jaw grinding. "I was being questioned."

"Questioned about what?"

"They think I killed some girl." He shook his head. "I didn't kill her. They got the wrong guy. They usually do."

"Did they have the wrong guy when they arrested you for assaulting CSI Sidle, now better known as Mrs. Gil Grissom?"

Sara kept her expression neutral as the judge looked straight at her. She wouldn't be doing her husband any favors by appearing nervous or unsettled.

"I was high," JJ said. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"And when the supposed attack on you took place? Were you high then?"

"No." He scowled at Grissom. "I remember every second of my nose getting busted."

Brady smiled. "Then you must also remember your comments to CSI Sidle. How you imagined she might like rough intercourse, etcetera?"

"Just talk. Didn't mean it."

"But how was Mr. Grissom to know that? You assaulted her physically and then verbally. It would be safe to assume that at that moment Mr. Grissom truly believed that her well-being was in danger."

"Objection! Specu…"

Judge O'Neil cut Rowland off. "Calm down. I went to law school, too. Stick to the facts, Mr. Brady."

"The fact is CSI Sidle was in danger from you. And Mr. Grissom knew it. You provoked him. And he did what he had to do in order to protect her." Brady shrugged. "It's as simple as that."

"Your Honor," Rowland complained.

"I'm done with this witness," Brady said with more than a little disdain.

"Good." The judge glanced at his court services officer who nodded at him. "Court is adjourned until nine a.m. tomorrow. Good night folks." He banged his gavel and stood to go.

Sara stood with everyone else, but she didn't start breathing until the judge had disappeared into his chambers. As the small crowd began to disperse, she came up behind her husband and reached for his hand.

"I'm on the stand in the morning," she whispered in his ear.

Grissom laced their fingers together. "Come on. Let's go home."

* * *

After dinner, Sara drew a hot bath and added plenty of her favorite scented soap. She slipped into the bubbles and willed her body to relax and soak in the comforting heat while she could. She'd read something about how it wasn't good to take hot baths in the later stages of pregnancy.

While she lounged in the water, Grissom entered the bathroom. She cracked one eye open and watched him lower the toilet seat cover to make a seat. He didn't speak for a long time, and Sara let him be. Whatever thoughts were occupying his mind, he needed time to work them out.

It turned out to be worth her wait.

"I'll talk to the reporter," Grissom finally said. "But only about my career. My childhood, my mother…you…off-limits."

"Don't we make you who you are?"

"Yes. That's why I can't share you with Channel 10's viewing audience."

Sara inclined her head. "I think that's more than fair."

The sound of the water filled the room as she drew her knees up to her chest. Soon she wouldn't be able to do that at all, she realized. She had better enjoy her flexibility while she could.

Grissom stood up. "I'm either desperate to keep my job…or I really would do anything for you."

Sara watched his retreating back. "Again," she whispered. "I feel the same way."

* * *

To Be Continued 


End file.
